


More Than You Know

by kat_is_going_on



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Magic, Magic School, Married Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Parenthood, Prinxiety - Freeform, logicality - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_is_going_on/pseuds/kat_is_going_on
Summary: Virgil was stuck in the orphanage for the past five years with only bad memories and music to keep him company. He'd long lost hope, or desire, to find a family that could love and accept him, that could see him as one of their own. It simply wasn't happening- anytime anyone was stupid enough to try and foster him, they paid a steep price for their foolish choice. Simply put, Virgil was a bad omen. Bad things always happened around him- furniture burned, sinks leaked and flooded homes, windows broke for no reason at all. He just wasn't worth the effort- any effort. It would be best if everyone left him alone to get lost in the world and disappear.But there was someone that wanted him, a couple that was almost as strange as he was. Despite his warnings, they took him in and seemed so sure that they could handle him, and something in Virgil hoped they were right for the first time in a long while. But could they really? Or was it just a matter of time before they gave up, and broke whatever was left of Virgil's heart?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 95
Kudos: 144





	1. The Park

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, guys, gals and nonbinary pals! I started writing this on a whim because Sanders Sides has taken my heart, so it's my first fanfic starring the character of the lovely, amazing Thomas Sanders (that man is so awesome and wonderful that I find myself having to physically stop my fingers from ranting about him) and hence might not be the best, but I'll give it a try! Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it, and see you next time! Love, Kat x
> 
> (TW: panic attack, depressed thoughts)

“Does everyone have their coat on? Are we ready to go, gang?” Margaret, a tall woman with greying hair and a wide smile chirped, making a few kids giggle as they shouted ‘yes!’. “Alright! Now, don’t forget the rules- no running too far away from me, no digging a hole to the other end of the world,” she said, looking pointedly yet gently at a small girl who gave her an innocent, toothless grin in response, “no touching trash cans, no...”

Virgil tuned out her melodic voice, having heard the lecture many, many times. He wished he was back in his corner of the shared bedroom, headphones on his head, hard rock blaring straight into his ears as he counted the painted stars on the ceiling for the umpteenth time (there were exactly eighty-three of them) and thought of nothing at all, but Margaret had insisted he come to the park with the other children and pestered him until he decided it would be easiest to just to do as she asked.

For some reason she believed that clear air (like there was such a thing in as big of a city as the one they lived in) would somehow help get him out of ‘the dark place’ he was in, as if it was a shallow hole dug by a dog he stepped into every time another family rejected him, and not a crater he had lived in for the past five years.

Not to mention he _hated_ the park, maybe even more than he hated the general outside world. It was always filled with smiling children who would throw him weird looks and cry around him and adults who judged his ragged, black hoodie, his hair that always covered his eyes and his frowning face, like he was a goth teenager someone threw into a strict, prim and proper suburban household.

“Now that all the boring stuff is done with, let’s go! Adventures awaits!” Margaret exclaimed happily, holding the door open to let through a dozen chatty, excited children. She stopped him just as he thought he would get away without having to talk to her, gripping his arm instinctively before she dropped it as he flinched away. “Virgil, you ought to get your coat too. It’s chilly outside- you’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ll be fine.” He said shortly, taking another step away in case she went to touch him again, accidentally or not. Truth was, he couldn’t handle wearing the coat he had- he hated the scratchy fabric and its weight was suffocating, reminding him of things he’d rather not be reminded of-, but there was no way he would tell her that. He wasn’t in the mood for the pitying look or the questions that would undoubtedly follow, nor did he want to be subjected to the vulnerability of the confession.

“At least get your cap.” Margaret said, a frown starting to draw deep lines between her eyebrows, but Virgil simply repeated, “I’ll fine.”

Letting out a heavy sigh in defeat, she moved away to let him through and locked the door behind them. Perhaps some years before she would try harder to convince him, but even the ever-optimistic Margaret had long since given up on his case. After another glance at Virgil’s hunched form, she put her smile back on and began one of her silly stories as she led the group forward. Virgil kept his eyes on the ground and hands in his pockets, walking as behind the rest as he could get away with, trying his best to ignore the cold autumn wind that froze the tips of his ears and whipped him mercilessly, making his eyes water.

The weather was similar to this when he first came to the orphanage, and he remembered standing outside in too-big borrowed clothes a pitying nurse had given him and an ugly sweater that nearly hung to his knees, waiting while the adults around him discussed his life as if he wasn’t present. He had been freezing and he had wanted to cry desperately, but he wasn’t allowed to cry, so he only stared at his wounded hands and rocked back and forth on his feet, back and forth, back and forth.

Virgil shook himself out of the memory before it spiraled out of control; it wouldn’t be the first time that a seemingly simple and harmless recollection of his past took a sharp turn into something far less than pleasant. The last thing he wanted was to have an anxiety attack in the middle of the street in front of a bunch of kids that were already wary of him and Margaret that would certainly attempt to console him and only make things worse.

His heart started beating too quickly just from the thought of having an anxiety attack in a public setting; he drew a sharp breath in, and exhaled it as slowly as he could, repeating the process until he felt calm again. It was a good trick that a psychiatrist he’d been forced to see showed him once upon a time, though it worked only before the attack itself began- once Virgil was already suffocating in his thoughts and fears, nothing could get him out of the nightmare.

They made it to the open gates of the park and children surged forward, running as if a legion of angry, armed Romans was at their heels. Margaret shouted after them to be careful and to watch out for mud, most likely formed after yesterday’s light rain, as she approached the closest bench to the playground and sat down, striking up a conversation with a man besides her with ease that Virgil always found both admirable and bemusing.

Virgil stayed as far away as possible, pondering what he should do with his time as he surveyed his surroundings. There were benches all along the intersecting trails, but a lot of them were already filled and he didn’t like the idea of sitting there while people passed by and watched him, no doubt judgingly. And besides, if he were to sit down, he would probably turn into an ice cube- the only thing that kept him on his feet was the heat he produced when he moved.

There was also the option of going into the small building where the bathrooms were, but with the tiles covering the floors and walls, he imagined it was even colder there than it was outside, and sitting cramped up in a bathroom stall for hours with nothing to do wasn’t exactly an appealing idea.

In the end he decided to wander down the trail, keeping himself to the edge, a hood over his head to try and blend into the shadows the trees threw onto the pavement. Most people preferred to walk on the main portion of the trail, so the further he got away from the center of the park, the fewer people he encountered, and after some time he started to relax a bit and even enjoy himself, humming lowly as he watched his dark sneakers flash in and out of view.

Maybe Margaret had a right when she dragged him along, Virgil thought, though not without some hardship. In the orphanage he could never be alone, not even in his corner- there was always someone running in and out of the room, or Margaret checking on a child that napped, or someone playing with toys on their bed. There wasn’t a room in the orphanage that he could go to in order to attain solitude, and Margaret didn’t allow anyone to go outside without her permission.

He’d sneaked out once, nevertheless, when she said something that angered him so much he had to spite her, even if it was behind her back. He ended up running back in the same way he escaped after only fifteen minutes of wandering the nearby streets, petrified by the shadows and the silhouettes of men walking on the pavement that to him seemed huge and intimidating. He spent that night hidden under the covers, listening to each and every hum and creak of the orphanage, too scared to fall asleep.

Virgil dug his hands deeper into his pockets, accelerating his pace to get rid of the bad thoughts. By then he was already mostly used to random bursts of unwanted thoughts, but it didn’t make them any more pleasant to deal with. He was so focused on not focusing on anything that he only heard a couple quick, heavy steps coming towards him before he collided with someone. They let out an ‘oof’ and Virgil heard something break as he quickly jumped back, his shoulders tense and muscles ready for fight or flight, and lifted his eyes.

The first thing he noticed were the man’s eyes behind the thick-rimmed glasses, a deep, entrancing hazel that radiated warmth and safety. A long, light blue coat hugged his shoulders, half of it unbuttoned so it revealed a soft-looking grey sweater underneath. Virgil was looking at the white necklace around his neck, small and round with some sort of inscription on it, when the man spoke and got his attention.

“I’m so, so sorry! I really should watch where I’m going. Are you alright?” The man asked, his whole face radiating concern and regret; he passed his hand over his hair to put it back into place, only managing to make a mess of it in the process. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“No, it’s my fault, I-“ Virgil began to mutter, lowering his eyes to avoid the man’s gaze only to notice a bag on the ground, its contents spilled all over. There were papers, chocolate bars, an odd amount of silver keys and what looked broken pieces of the ceramics littering the trail. Virgil began apologizing feverishly, his words tumbling over each other as he attempted to gather the things, panic building in his chest.

”Oh. Oh, dear. It’s _you.”_ The man said, and when Virgil looked up, heart pounding, he saw the man’s eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly open.

“I-I’m sorry.” Virgil apologized yet again, swallowing the lump in his throat as he tried to stop his hands from shaking enough to not drop the keys. The man didn’t look angry at him, just shocked, but Virgil couldn’t risk being wrong about it. “I didn’t mean to, I’m so stupid and clumsy, I-“

The man shook his head, as if coming out of a trance, and crouched down, starting to gather the papers closest to him. “No, no, it’s on me. I got a bit wrapped up in my head, and wasn’t watching where I was going. My husband’s pointed it out many times, but I just can’t seem to get out of my mind sometimes.” He said, laughing softly and affectionately, then offered his hand, a gold band gleaming on his ring finger. “I’m Patton, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

Virgil looked at the hand dubiously, then slowly extended his own and shook it. Patton’s hand was soft, big and warm, so much different from his cold and scarred one. Virgil usually hated any sort of human touch and avoided it like the plague, but there was something pleasant about this, like he was drinking hot cocoa on a winter afternoon, wrapped up in a comfortable blanket, and he found himself disappointed when Patton let him go and went back to collecting his things.

“I- this broke. I’m sorry. I can try to-” Virgil whispered, anxiety coming back full force as soon as he looked down again. He reached for a piece of ceramics only to have Patton urgently swatting his hands away.

“Don’t touch it! You could hurt yourself!” Patton scolded hastily, pulling out a deep blue handkerchief from his pocket. “It’s really not worth it, it was just a bowl. It was my fault for carrying it around carelessly.”

Patton had barely touched him when he swatted his hands away, and the barely-felt sting was gone before it even appeared; still, Virgil was frozen on the spot, breaths shallow as he watched Patton put the large pieces onto a pile and then wrapping them up in the handkerchief, putting it into the bag with the rest before he zipped it.

“Are you okay?” Patton asked worriedly, furrowing his eyebrows as he concentrated on Virgil’s face. “I hope I didn’t hit you too hard; I just didn’t want you to scratch yourself on the sharp edges. I’m really sorry.”

“No, it’s- fine.” Virgil managed to mumble, then he suddenly staggered to his feet and ran in the opposite direction, leaving the surprised man on the ground. He heard Patton shout, “Wait!” behind him, but he didn’t stop. As he passed the playground he saw Margaret from the corner of his eye, wiping the tears from a child’s face, cooing at the small boy as she cleaned the dirt from his scraped knee.

He couldn’t tell if she saw him and he didn’t care. Anxiety and panic were building up in his chest, amplified by the weird looks stabbing him in the back, and he had to get out of there _right now._ It felt as if his lungs had stopped working by the time he made it back to the orphanage and collapsed behind the rose bush Margaret put her heart and soul into maintaining, curling into as small of a ball as he could.

Too many thoughts raged in his mind and _he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe_ no matter how badly he tried to pull air in. He squeezed his shins, desperately trying to hold onto _something_ as everything crushed around him and he suffocated, brain and heart devoid of oxygen.

He couldn’t tell how much time passed before he could breathe again; he felt so lightheaded and tired he could only rest his head on his knees and count his inhales and exhales. His hands were shaking badly, slipping from his shins, so he rested them on the ground instead and squeezed the soft dirt to try and calm.

This was so _stupid._ That man was so nice and kind and didn’t seem the least bit mad that Virgil ruined his things, and only tried to stop him from cutting himself, and Virgil just had to be his stupid, pathetic self and have a whole panic attack over that. Not to mention that now he would have to either go back to the park and explain his bloodshot eyes to Margaret, risking seeing the man again, or stay where he was and deal with her anger at his sudden disappearance.

But the thing that bewildered him the most was that he _missed_ Patton. What was that about?! Virgil never missed anyone, not even the families that were nice and tried their best by him, and now he was sad he was no longer around someone he’s spent maybe five minutes with? His heart actually ached to see those grounding hazel eyes again, to feel that same calming feeling he did when they shook hands. What was wrong with him?

_What’s wrong with you?!_

Virgil shut his eyes tightly and shook his head. Nope, nope, nope, they weren’t doing this now. He already had one panic attack; he wasn’t about to have a _second_ one in a row. This time he was better prepared and could concentrate on his breathing- in for four seconds, hold for seven, out for eight. Fidgeting with his shoelaces helped, and soon the worst of the feeling receded and he could stand up, though he had to lean on the wall until the world stopped spinning.

Thankfully, he still had a couple tissues in his pocket and he used them to blow his nose and clean his face from the almost-dried tears. He must’ve looked like a mess, but then again he always looked like a mess, so perhaps Margaret wouldn’t notice. After a few more calming breaths that he hoped would remove the redness from his usually pale face, and a few swipes through his hair that were really unnecessary since his hair was always disheveled, but that made him feel slightly better, he put his hood back on and started for the park, counting his steps again to distract his brain from the people he passed by.

He tried to approach the gate as nonchalantly as he could and not seem suspicious or guilty of anything- Margaret had a knack for smelling guilt on people-, but in the end it didn’t matter because she stood near the gate, hands on her waist and her signature frown on her face.

“Where were you, Virgil? You know the rules- no going out of the park without the group.”

If it weren’t for her serious tone, Virgil would’ve found it almost silly that she talked to him as she would to the other children, the oldest of which was eight. Virgil was nearing thirteen and hadn’t been a child in a long, long time; he wasn’t impressionable nor was he seeking approval or validation. He was probably going to age out of the system after a few more unsuccessful homes, be thrown into the street and expected to care for himself. Statistically speaking, he would end up dead in an alley somewhere before he’s twenty, with no one to remember an insignificant Virgil.

The thing was, no one truly wanted him. Every now and again, a brave couple that took pity on the withdrawn child in the corner would take him in, thinking that they would be the one to heal the wounds from his _sad, tragic_ childhood and that with enough smiles and optimism he would turn into a perfect boy that laughed and hugged them and was _normal._ Once they realized he wouldn’t get out of his shell, that he wouldn’t embrace them or talk to them or call them _mom_ or _dad,_ they returned him with a sad smile and a speech about how great he was but they just didn’t click, trying to hide the relief they felt for finally ridding themselves of him.

And it wasn’t just his attitude that had people packing him into their car or onto the bus and throwing him back at Margaret; there was something about Virgil that just made bad things happen around him. Expensive vases broken, thing set on fire, water flooding houses and apartments; once, a window broke near Virgil, though he never laid a hand on it. With the latest family, their entire balcony garden, lush and green and colorful when Virgil arrived, withered until it was all brown and yellow and dead.

“I had to use the toilet, and the one here was taken. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just really had to go.” Virgil lied easily, watching blankly as Margaret tried to read his face suspiciously before her features relaxed. A part of him didn’t like to lie, but he had learned over time that ignoring the uncomfortable twisting in his stomach was better than having to tell the truth; he had no one but himself to protect him, and lying was often the way he did that.

“Alright, but next time please tell me beforehand.” Margaret said, then gestured to the grey, cloudy sky. “It’s about to rain, so we’re going back. Can you help me gather everyone up?”

“Sure.” Virgil said, though he doubted his help would be needed or that any of the children would be happy he was around.

By the time all the children were rounded up, rain had already began, light raindrops darkening Virgil’s hoodie. Halfway to the orphanage it started outright pouring and Margaret tried to usher everyone forward while still watching that no one slipped. Virgil walked slowly behind and stopped in front of the orphanage, face tilted towards the sky, while everyone was rushed inside. He loved the rain, and since he was already soaking wet it didn’t really matter if he took his time.

“Virgil, come on! You’ll catch a cold!”

Sighing an unsatisfied sigh, Virgil stepped into the entryway; he might’ve been tempted to try and get Margaret to leave him alone in the rain, but he honestly didn’t have the energy for it. Everyone was crowded in the small space, a wiggling mess of soaked, giggling humans trying to take off their shoes and coats at the same time, which was unsurprisingly unproductive. Unnerved by the noise, Virgil quickly took his shoes off and somehow managed to get around the cackle of children and climb upstairs, his shoulders relaxing as soon as he put space between him and the cacophony.

He took his hoodie off and laid it at the foot of the bed to dry, patting the wet fabric affectionately, but didn’t bother with anything else as he collapsed on the bed. A brief thought of getting water crossed his mind, but before he could gather the motivation and make his limbs move, he was fast asleep.


	2. The Offer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm floored that so many people already liked this, thank you so much! I didn't expect anyone to come across it so quickly, but this fandom is just that amazing :) I hope you'll enjoy this chapter too, and that you have a wonderful day/night. See you next time. Love, Kat x

The following week was uneventful. Virgil spent most of it in bed, headphones on, only coming down to meals when he was called. He didn’t eat all that much, as per usual, but Margaret didn’t seem to mind; considering that he knew to avoid the dining room completely on some days, she was probably content he was present at all.

The first few days after what he now referred to as the Park Incident, anxiety choked him before bed and the events replayed over and over in his head, amplifying his embarrassment and idiocy, but it soon eased enough that he wouldn’t twist and turn in his bed until four in the morning, and he was instead back to his regular sleeping troubles. It wasn’t exactly a relief to have nightmares again, per se, but it was at least something steady and familiar.

He was sitting in his corner on another rainy day, headphones on but music off so he could listen to the patter of raindrops on the window, when Olivia ran up to him. At first he assumed she was daydreaming and hadn’t noticed he was there, and would turn around and race right back out the door, but she stopped in front of him and waved a small hand in front of his face. Taking the cue, he lowered his headphones so they rested around his neck.

“Miss Margaret says you should come to her office, as soon as possible. It means that you have to hurry up.” She clarified, as if unsure he understood. He nodded at her, and, satisfied with a job well done, she skipped back out, humming a happy tune under her breath.

Thoughts of what he might have done wrong swirled inside Virgil’s head as he stood up and dug his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. The only times Margaret called you to her office were when someone was interested in fostering you, and when you were in trouble. The first option made no sense- if there was a legible foster parent knocking on the door, Margaret would first take them on a tour so they could meet the kids and see if there was one they would be interested in taking home (she strongly believed that children shouldn’t be interrupted from whatever they were doing when someone arrived, and the parent should instead look around and interact while Margaret trailed along)-, so it must have been the second one.

But he didn’t understand what he could’ve done wrong. He did his portion of the chores (which mainly consisted of laundry, assigned to him because Margaret was worried someone else might be tempted to swallow the detergent), he ate as much as he could, and he even went to therapy yesterday, though it was just another awkward hour of short answers from him and futile attempts to get him to open up from the therapist. He didn’t click with the middle-aged man and he knew that he should seek out someone he’d like and be honest with, but that was the exact reason he stayed with this boring one- he didn’t feel like talking to someone who’d understand, who he’d grow to trust. Trusting people only ended up hurting you in the end.

A few kids were playing on the stairs, laughing and chattering like there was no tomorrow, but they scrambled out of the way as he approached them, probably feeling his nervous energy. He dragged his feet as much as he could, but too soon he was in front of the wooden doors with a plaque that read _Dr Margaret Stoll,_ and his hand was knocking on it.

“Come in.” he heard Margaret say, and in the couple seconds it took him to open the door he tried to judge her tone. There was something odd about her voice, but she didn’t sound angry or disappointed, which relaxed his shoulders a little.

They tensed right back up when he spotted a familiar light blue coat and met Patton’s hazel eyes, as warm and approachable as they had been the last time Virgil saw him. But they didn’t calm Virgil a single bit this time- why was Patton here? Was he a cop? Did he press charges against Virgil for what happened in the park? Was he going to go to _jail?_ Virgil had heard horrifying stories about juvie from a kid he met in a foster home once, and he steered as clear of legal trouble as was possible. He couldn’t go there, _he couldn’t._

“You must be Virgil.” An even voice called out and Virgil whipped his head around, only now noticing a man who occupied one of the armchairs in front of Margaret’s desk. He was dressed seriously, with the black dress shirt and blue, sensibly patterned tie so precisely and neatly ordered that he almost looked like he was advertising them for a business magazine. What chilled Virgil was the look in his eyes, or rather the fact that they were blank and detached, not letting anything on.

“Y-yeah. That’s me.” He answered shakily. That man _had_ to be some sort of a lawyer, or something like that. Was he the persecutor? Was he the one who would put Virgil in jail? Not even trying to hide it, the man looked Virgil up and down, and Virgil almost physically felt he was scanned for faults and fallacies. Then the man nodded and turned to look at Patton as the other man spoke.

“Hi, Virgil. In case you don’t remember me, I’m Patton. This is my husband, Logan.” Patton gestured to the serious man, an affectionate smile on his lips. “How are you?”

“F-fine?” Virgil said, unsure what he was supposed to do.

“Come on in, Virgil, and close the door behind you, please.” Margaret ordered, and Virgil caught onto the comfort of the familiarity of her voice as he did as he was told. Once he was in the middle of the room, feeling even more awkward than before, Margaret said, “Virgil, these are Mr. and Mr. Sanders. They are here because they wish to foster you.”

“Foster me?” Virgil asked, blinking in confusion as his brain struggled desperately to adjust. “B-but I thought...”

“You thought?” Margaret incented when Virgil trailed off, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

“I thought you were here to arrest me...” Virgil said lowly, feeling like a complete idiot- a still-puzzled one at that- as everyone looked at him though he wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t some kind of a trick. He felt like a clown in a zoo with a spotlight over him, and he just waited for someone to laugh at him mockingly.

“Arrest you? Why would we arrest you?” Logan asked, brows scrunched up as he stared at Virgil. “We’re not a part of the police force, and you have yet to commit a crime, according to your files.”

Virgil looked at Patton, “I- I knocked your things over last week. In the park.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he let out a laugh in disbelief as he understood. “Why would you be arrested over _that?_ It was an accident, one that I caused myself.”

Not knowing what else to do, Virgil shrugged and rocked on his feet. “I don’t know?”

“Oh, so you’ve already met.” Margaret said suddenly and sighed in relief, “I couldn’t for the life of me understand why you asked for Virgil specifically.”

Patton threw her an apologetic look, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Doctor Stoll, but it was a bit of a silly situation and I wanted to ask if Virgil was comfortable with sharing it before I said anything.”

“No, it’s alright, I understand.” Margaret smiled at Patton. “That’s actually very nice of you.”

But Virgil was only left in bigger confusion. He’d never told Patton his name, or where he lived, or anything about himself at all. How did Patton manage to find him? And better yet, why was he even looking for Virgil? They talked for only a few minutes, and Virgil ended up tailing it out of there like his butt was on fire; it wasn’t like they had a sweet bonding moment.

“We wanted to have a private conversation with Virgil before we made any decisions.” Logan said bluntly, and Patton smiled and added, more gently, “If it’s alright with you and Virgil.”

“No, no, of course.” Margaret said, then look to Virgil, “Virgil?”

“I guess?” Virgil said, unsure if he even knew the answer to that question. On one hand, he wanted answers to the questions that he had a nagging feeling he shouldn’t ask in front of Margaret, but on the other, he didn’t really want to be left alone with two people he didn’t know.

“Excellent. You can use my office, if you like.”

“That will suffice. Thank you.” Logan said, adding the last part as an afterthought.

“I’ll be in the living room, so you can come and find me when you’re done.” With that Margaret exited the room, and a silence settled over them.

“Well.” Patton started, sitting down in the vacant armchair; his fingers immediately went to the armrest and started tap, tap, tapping. Was he nervous too? “I imagine you have some questions for us, Virgil.”

“Um, yes.” Virgil said, gripping the fabric on the inside of his pockets. “A few, actually.”

Patton nodded and smiled, and for whatever reason that smile had Virgil’s tumbling thoughts calming down a fraction. “Ask away.”

Virgil tried to decide which question to ask first, but in the end didn’t choose any of the smart, logical ones and just blurted out, “Why do you want _me?_ I’m not... a good person to be around. You must have read that in my file, or wherever.”

“Hm.” Patton hummed, and Virgil waited impatiently while the man phrased his answer. “Let’s just say we have some experience with your... troubles.”

“I don’t.” Logan corrected, and Patton glanced at him and chuckled, intertwining their fingers so naturally and thoughtlessly that Virgil imagined he had done it a million times before. Feeling a bit embarrassed for staring at their hands, like he was looking at something too gentle and private for his gaze, he hung his head to stare at the dark carpet beneath his worn slippers.

“Okay, Logan doesn’t, but I do.” Patton rephrased, “I think we can both help you, if you want us to.”

“Help me how?” Virgil asked suspiciously, but Patton didn’t seem offended by his distrust, though his eyes did soften at it in what Virgil recognized as sympathy.

“Bad things happen around you, right? Stuff breaks, people get divorced, children cry. People die, even.” Patton said carefully, and from the corner of his eye Virgil saw Logan squeeze his hand. “But we know it’s not your fault, and that you’re not a bad kid. And we think... we might be able to make the bad things stop.”

Virgil looked at him, searching Patton’s eyes for any trace of deception, but all he saw were sympathy, compassion and that ever-present warmth. From what Virgil could see, Patton genuinely believed in what he said, and that made Virgil a little sad because Patton would undoubtedly end up disappointed, whether he knew it yet or not. “You can’t. No one can. It’s always been this way.”

“Well, then, we can at least try.”

“You’ll only end up regretting it, like everyone else has.” Virgil insisted, “You seem like really nice people.” He looked between Logan and Patton, and meant what he said- they both gave of an air of reliability and steadiness and a certain safety (though it didn’t make Logan any less intimidating). “You should foster someone who’s worth your time, and who won’t destroy your home and your lives. That’s not me.”

Patton looked the closest to angry and frustrated that he’d come to the whole time, the sudden urgency with which he spoke startling Virgil a bit. “That’s not true! You’re more than worth out time, or anyone else’s, and absolutely anyone would be happy to have you. It’ll be different than your other homes, I promise, if you give us a chance. We won’t kick you out or abandon you or hurt you, I-“

“Patton.” Logan interrupted, the gentleness of his voice surprising Virgil- this was the first deviation from his serious, business-like tone. He watched Patton for a few moments, as if waiting to see if his husband would speak again, then turned to Virgil. “This is not a question of whether or not we can be of aid to you, Virgil- that goes without saying, whether you believe it or not-, but of whether you want to give us a chance or not. The decision is yours only, though if you don’t choose to let us help, things will only get worse and worse.”

“You’re making it sound too ominous, honey.” Patton scolded lightly, all the while looking at Virgil. “This is not an ultimatum or anything like that. We’re not trying to tell you what to do by any means.”

“Of course not-that’s why it’s his _choice._ ” Logan said, frowning again as if what Patton said was completely unnecessary. “I was merely stating a fact.”

“I know, but Virgil might not.”

Virgil looked back and forth between them as they talked, too overwhelmed to say anything. What would he say, anyway? Why did they seem so sure that they could somehow stop the insistent bad luck that followed Virgil around like a dark, stormy cloud? He’d seen families set on fixing him before, but this was the first time someone offered to try and ease his life, not turn him into something he’s not.

And did he want to go with them? He wasn’t sure, which was also a novelty. Usually the answer was a clear ‘no’, though at Margaret’s urging he would do it anyway. But something about these people pulled at his heart, making him want to be around them even as they confused him and made him want to run away at the same time.

“-gil? Virgil?” Patton called out, and Virgil snapped out of his thoughts to see them both watching him. “Are you okay?”

“Um. Yeah.” He mumbled. Patton didn’t seem convinced, but instead of commenting on his lie, he dug into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a stack of bright pink post-its and a glittery, blue pen with a sticker of a puppy’s head on the side. He wrote something quickly on one of the post its, his left hand flying over the small, square piece of paper, before he tore it away from the others, folded it and stood up to hand it to Virgil.

“There. That’s the number of my cellphone, and the number of our house phone- though I recommend you call the former, since the latter one has a tendency to stop working out of the blue.” Virgil expected him to sit back down, but instead he gestured to Logan and took his hand again once the serious man stood up.

“I think we’ve given you plenty to chew on, Virgil. I don’t want you to feel like we’re suffocating you with our expectations, though I would be lying if I said I don’t wish you’d agree to live with us.” Patton continued, smiling softly. “When you decide, call us- or ask Dr Stoll to call us. Either way is fine. Or if you need anything at all, just ring us up. Come on, Logan.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you.” Logan said, extending his free hand, and Virgil accepted it. Logan shook it once and let go, giving him a nod. Virgil moved aside so they could pass, and while Logan gathered his midnight blue coat from the hanger by the door, Patton smiled at him. “Goodbye, Virgil.”

“Goodbye.” Virgil repeated, and just like that they were gone. He heard their voices and Margaret’s, though he couldn’t tell what they were saying- the walls were thin, but not that thin. Because his knees were shaking and he just realized it, because their abrupt leave had thoughts swirling through his head and because a part of him wanted to run after them, Virgil sat down in one of the warm chairs, resting his forearms on his thighs, trying to steady himself.

“So, what did they say?” Margaret asked from where she leaned on the doorway, watching Virgil. He had heard her approach, but didn’t raise his head.

“They said- they said I could think about it. About living with them.” Virgil said quietly, suddenly so inexplicably tired he wasn’t sure he could raise his voice even if he wanted to.

“They seem like wonderful people.” Was all Margaret said, before turning around and leaving as quickly as she appeared. Virgil waited until he heard her in the other room, talking to someone unintelligibly, then stood up and went upstairs, turning on his music as soon as he was on the bed, letting the hard rock ease the tension in his muscles.

He tried not to think of the situation and clear his head, but found it impossible. Anxiety was always with him, especially when it came to new potential foster parents, but this was different. Virgil felt like he was teetering on the edge, faced with a choice that would change his life drastically no matter what he chose, and the silliness of the thought didn’t make it seem any less real. One option would have him falling over, the other moving to safety... but which was which?

The answer seemed obvious, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was. What if the Sanders’ were actually a part of some cult and sacrificed him to the Devil because he’s a bad omen, or something like that? What if they sold his organs on the black marker? Or made him join a street gang they were secretly members of? He didn’t think any of that was possible or likely; still, there was no way to be sure.

But that was all just him trying to make excuses, Virgil admitted with a sigh, because what _really_ worried him- or better yet, what terrified him- was that his heart had already made up its mind. He wanted to go with them, to give them a chance. Virgil had been dealing with tragedy that wouldn’t leave him alone for so long and he was so _tired;_ he wanted to believe Patton’s confidence and Logan’s matter-of-fact attitude, he wanted to believe that with them it could be different.

Virgil turned to his side and took out the post-it, reading the scribbled _Logan and Patton Sanders_ over and over again, a small smile playing over his lips at the tiny, simple flower Patton drew next to it. He stayed that way for some time, tracing the letters as music blasted in his ears.


	3. The Window

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm so happy that so many people seem to like my work (I'm probably going to repeat this a million times, so you'll just have to be used to being thanked) and I just want to remind y'all that I appreciate any and all comments, and nothing's awkward so if you ever wanna comment anything, just go ahead. I hope you all are hydrated (if you aren't, go drink a glass of water please!), are having a nice day and that you enjoy this chapter. Love, Kat x

It was Thursday and Virgil was sitting in the living room, curled up in the armchair in his hoodie, flipping through one of his favorite books and reading only the best parts. He wasn’t sure what pushed him out of his comfortable corner and into a room filled with loud children that played some kind of a war on the furniture, but here he was anyway, feeling... content. It was a rare feeling for Virgil and it never lasted for very long, but he was set on enjoying it for as long as he could before anxiety came back to haunt him full force.

Olivia even invited him to play with them. A smile fluttered over his lips even now when he thought of it, and he turned another page. He had said no (just because he was slightly more relaxed than usual didn’t mean he’d enjoy anything of the sort), but the offer still flattered him and he made a note in his mind to offer her his dessert after lunch tomorrow, as a ‘thank you’ a child like her would truly appreciate.

“And here are the little gremlins. Making a mess as always, huh?” Margaret asked playfully, earning a few giggles and dramatic ‘No!’s. Virgil heard Margaret’s laugh in response before she said, “Everyone, these are Mr and Mrs Houston. Say hi to our guests.”

A chorus of greetings swept over the room, and Virgil looked up, a small smile dragging at his lips at the excited noise despite the fact he hated when new families came and he was around.

Virgil first spotted the short woman with blonde hair pulled up into such a perfect bun it was almost unsettling and a dress on that made her seem older than Margaret, though she must have been at least a decade younger. Then he turned to the man next to her, broad shouldered, hair slicked back with more oil that Virgil thought anyone could possibly need; his smile instantly disappeared and his shoulders tensed up.

And when the man looked at him, hairs stood up on the back of Virgil’s neck, screaming _danger danger danger_ though the man was smiling a polite-enough smile. Virgil’s body urged him to stand up and run away, as quickly and as far as he could; he might’ve done it too, but the man was blocking his only exit, and Virgil had no desire at all to be anywhere near him.

He followed each and every movement the man made, breath quickening until he was afraid he might have an anxiety attack. It was impossible to calm down as he watched the couple make their way across the room, stopping to shake hands and exchange a few words with the kids that tried their best to be polite though many were clearly unhappy with the interruption and went back to their game as soon as the Houstons turned away. Virgil kept tightening his hold on the book he help until he was gripping it so hard that his knuckles turned white and the edges of the hard cover dug into his palms.

He couldn’t tell what exactly set him off about the man, or rather what had _father_ swirling like poison inside Virgil’s head- his father was taller, had a long beard unlike this man’s shaved face and his eyes had been dark, dark, dark, unlike these blue ones. Perhaps it was that smile, the same smile his father had in public around his colleagues as he held Virgil’s hand, making pleasant small conversation while Virgil’s body still ached, covered in bruises from last night’s beating. He would always be made to smile too, and he would until his teeth ached because if he didn’t there would be shouting and hands on him and pain, pain, pain, pain-

“Hello. I’m Julius Houston.”

The man was in front of him too quickly, a hand extended as he waited for Virgil to take it. Virgil said nothing as he pressed his back as close to the seat cushions as possible, as if they could swallow and hide him. Instead of taking it as a cue to back away, the man approached even closer, and Virgil scrambled out of the armchair and tumbled onto the floor, hard. Pain spread through his arm but he ignored it as he pushed himself backwards until his back hit the wall under the big window, his legs shaking so badly he didn’t dare try to stand up.

“Hey, you okay? Let me help you up.”

_Go away, go away, go away, go away_ Virgil screamed in his head, but Julius leaned over him nevertheless, and his hand was reaching for Virgil’s arm and Virgil closed his eyes tightly and before he even knew he was going to do it he was shouting, “Don’t touch me!”

A crack rang in the air, and though it can’t have been very loud it sounded like thunder in the suddenly-silent room; a breath later all hell broke loose. There was screaming and shouting and feet pounding across the floor and someone was crying but Virgil only shut his eyes even tighter as if it would keep the horror out.

“Virgil!” Margaret’s horrified voice broke through and his head snapped up, meeting her wide eyes. Next to her was Mr Houston, blood seeping from a wound on his forehead. Virgil looked around and saw broken glass all around him, shining in the afternoon sun like crystals. Then he felt terror climb up his throat and he felt so sick he almost threw up.

He’d done it again. He’d done it again. This had never happened in the orphanage before, but now his curse or whatever it was blew up in a room full of children, who all stared at him with terrified looks on their small faces. He could’ve killed someone. Oh, God. Oh, God, God, God.

He tried to get up but his legs couldn’t support him and he ended up falling forward. He felt sharp glass break skin and dig into his flesh with some absent part of his brain, but he didn’t acknowledge it as he tried again, this time succeeding in half-stumbling, half-running out of the room. Margaret shouted his name but he only kept going forward, rushing into her thankfully unlocked office to grab her mobile phone from where she always kept it on her top shelf, out of the reach of the other children, and tumbled out her window, not willing to risk her waiting for him by the front door.

He sneaked around the orphanage, and his heart pounded so quickly in his chest he was sure everyone could hear it. But no one stopped him as he ran across the street and hid in between two tall buildings, taking out the phone and Patton’s post-it from his pocket. It took him four tries before he managed to type in the correct number, and he put it to his ear and listened to the beep, beep, beep. What if Patton didn’t pick up? Or even worse, what if he _did_ pick up, but they had changed their minds and wanted nothing to do with him? Maybe they had grown tired of waiting for him; after all, five days had already passed and it was a long time to wait for anybody. They probably came to their senses and realized how stupid-

“Mr Sanders on the line, how may I help you?” a cheery voice said, and Virgil almost cried in relief.

“Um... I... It’s Virgil.” Virgil whispered, voice shaking despite his best efforts to keep it even. “I’m sorry to bother you, I- I was wondering if you still wanted to, um, you know. Take me in.”

“Yes! Yes, of course. Virgil? Are you alright?” Patton asked when he got no answer, and a single tear ran down Virgil’s face at the unabashed concern in his voice.

Virgil opened his mouth, a lie already on his tongue when he sniffed and instead whispered, “No. I’m not. I’m really not.”

“What’s wrong? Are you in danger?”

Curling into a ball, Virgil shook his head, then remembered Patton couldn’t see him. “Not right now. It’s stupid. The window broke and I just... I just ran away. I don’t think I can go back.”

Virgil heard shuffling in the background and a short, muted conversation- Patton probably put a hand over his speaker-, and then the older man asked, “Where are you?”

“Near the orphanage. I don’t know where exactly.”

More shuffling ensued and Virgil heard the sound of a door closing. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes, alright? Can you wait twenty minutes for me?”

“Yeah.” Virgil whispered. What other choice did he have?

“Great. Just hang on. I’ll call you again as soon as I’m close, alright? So you can tell me where you are.”

“Alright.”

“Just hang on.” Patton repeated, and another door closed. “Twenty minutes.”

Before Virgil could say anything else, the line went dead and he was once again all alone. Putting the phone next to him, Virgil pulled on his hood, hugged his shins and rested his head on his knees as he waited.

***

When the phone rang Virgil jolted out of the daze he had fallen into and panicked, then remembered it was Patton calling and he was supposed to answer him. His hands were seriously starting to hurt and the pain was becoming almost unbearable now that most of the adrenaline had left his body. Virgil tried not to think of it as he led Patton to where he sat; a car stopped on the street and he saw Patton running to him in the slowly disappearing light.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Patton sighed sadly and crouched next to him. “Can you stand up?”

Virgil nodded, struggling against the wall, biting the inside of his cheek to not cry out as the glass stabbed him further when he used his hands to support himself. He appreciated that Patton kept his distance and didn’t insist on touching him even though he had to wait almost a minute for Virgil to get up.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie. There you go. Come on, let’s get you in the car. Do you want to sit in the front or the back?”

Virgil thought it through for a second- the front meant it would be overall less cramped, but in the back he would be further away from Patton-, and chose the back. He liked Patton in the short time he’d spent with him more than he liked any other family so far- or person in his life, really-, but he wasn’t sure he could handle proximity to anyone right now.

As soon as Patton settled into the driver’s seat and secured his seatbelt, he started the car and joined the traffic. For a few moments he was quiet, changing lanes and driving slowly and carefully, then when they stopped on the traffic light he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Virgil answered, half-expecting Patton to push the topic despite his unwillingness- many people did that, thinking that they knew better than Virgil what was good for him-, but Patton merely said, “Okay. Do you want me to turn the radio on?”

“Yes, please.” Nodding, Patton pressed a couple buttons. Loud drums and pleasant singing, mixed with some kind of a string instrument in the background that Virgil couldn’t identify, erupted from the speaker and color rose in Patton’s cheeks as he went to lower the volume. “Sorry about that. I sometimes turn it up too loud when Logan’s not driving with me- he doesn’t like noise very much, but I find it calming occasionally.”

“No, no, I- I like it loud.” Virgil said, and Patton blinked, retreating his fingers that were about to click a button, continuing to drive as the light turned green. “Oh, okay. Cool. I’ll leave it like this then.”

Calmed by the beating music, Virgil closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cold window. He was so entranced with the story- a series of interactions between a fairy and a sad, lonely teenager that slowly grew into a romance- the singer painted with words and tones through a few consecutive songs (it must have been a musical of sorts), that he was surprised when the car came to a stop and the engine shut down.

“Here we are. Our apartment’s on the third floor, which is also super convenient because it means we get access to the roof.” Patton said as he exited the vehicle, waiting until Virgil was out too before he locked it. The car made a cute ‘beep’ and the headlights blinked once before it shut down.

The building was very charming, its exterior painted a lovely lilac color with yellow, blue and pink butterflies flying over both sides of the dark, wooden door. It looked very much like something that Virgil believed would appeal to Patton, but he couldn’t imagine serious Logan looking at it and going, ‘Ah, yes, the place of my dreams’.

“Come on.” Patton started forward and Virgil followed him a few steps behind, playing with the phone he had put back in his pocket so it bounced off of the inside of his pocket and hit the back of Virgil’s hand. He expected Patton to unlock the door, but he just knocked on the wood twice and opened it. Virgil frowned at that. Did the people who lived here not lock their door? That seemed like a serious safety hazard.

They entered into a hallway and passed the stairs and a couple doors as they approached the elevator. Everything here was in happy colors as well, but appealing rather than overwhelming with the soft green and blue of the tiles and the light yellow of the walls.

Patton hummed a tune as they rode upwards, head bobbing lightly to the rhythm he created. Virgil kept to the corner of the small box, controlling his breathing the best he could- he _really_ wasn’t a fan of lifts-, and tried not to run out when the doors finally slid open. This time Patton didn’t do anything strange and just pulled out a simple, silver key and opened the locks.

“Welcome to our humble home!” Patton announced, gesturing to space that Virgil would have used a different word from ‘humble’ for. It wasn’t that it was extravagant, exactly, but it was certainly not a shoe box either. Virgil stepped inside and looked around, curiosity drowning his anxiety for at least a bit.

Here, at last, he could see Logan’s presence in the sensible gray of the walls and the simple angularity of the furniture. He imagined it was Patton that added the colorful, patterned pillows to the warm brown couches in the living room and put knick knacks and details, splashes of color, around the place. The entire apartment- at least what of it Virgil could see from where he stood- looked like a giant compromise between two wildly different people that turned out the best way possible.

The center of Virgil’s awe, however, weren’t the paintings and the pictures adorning the walls, but the amount of bookshelves in the living room. One, two, three... there were six of them, reaching to about a foot from the ceiling, filled to the brim with all sorts of books. There were books everywhere, really, on the dining table, on the open shoe closet next to the door, on top of the bookshelves, and even one on the armrest of the sofa.

“Would you like something to drink?” Patton interrupted his musing and Virgil almost jumped out of his skin as he turned to look at him. “I think we have some snacks too, if you like.”

Virgil’s stomach churned uncomfortably when he thought of food, and he really didn’t want to be any more of a burden, in any way, but he felt so unbelievably thirsty that he said, “Water, if that’s okay. Please.”

“Of course it’s okay. Just give me a sec.” Patton disappeared through a doorway and Virgil waited, trying to quell his discomfort by jumping from one foot to another now that he was brought back to reality. What was he doing here? He had grabbed the phone on a whim and called Patton because he knew the man would help him, but neither he nor Logan really knew what they were getting into with Virgil, and the window incident just proved that. He was putting them both in danger just by being around them, and it only proved his selfishness that he was nonetheless glad to be near Patton and his kind, gentle presence.

Patton reappeared quickly, a purple-tinted glass in his hand and a smile on his face as he handed it to Virgil. “Here you go. I hope it’s not too cold.”

Virgil quickly assured him that it was fine and took his hands out of his pockets to take the glass, only to have it sharply pulled out of his reach. Confused, Virgil looked up at Patton to see the man looking down with a look of horror on his usually cheery face.

“Virgil, your hands! By Morgana’s- what happened?”

Oh, right, his hands. Virgil had almost forgotten about them- at this point they were mostly numb as long as he didn’t move them. His stomach turned when he glanced at them in the good lighting of the living room; they were covered in a mix of dried, drying and fresh blood, with glass poking out of abused flesh in a way that would’ve had monsters from horror films screaming. No wonder Patton looked horrified.

“I just fell on the glass, when the window broke. It’s alright.”

“It’s clearly _not_ alright!” Patton nearly shouted in distress, then lowered his voice again when Virgil flinched. “Come on, we have to get you cleaned up before anything gets infected.”

Patton went to the left and Virgil followed him through a doorway and then a clean white door and into an orderly, roomy bathroom, not because he particularly wanted to but because he was too afraid not to. He sat on the edge of the bathtub as Patton fluttered around the room, grabbing supplies and cutting up gauze into smaller squares.

There was tension in the room that almost physically suffocated Virgil, so in hopes of easing it a bit he asked quietly, “Where’s Mr. Logan?”

Patton glanced at him, but Virgil avoided his eyes and instead stared at the shiny light grey tiles. “He went to borrow an extra pillow from a neighbor. We weren’t sure what you were going to say, so we never bought one- we intended to if you said yes, but the stores are all closed by now.”

“Sorry.” Virgil muttered, guilt swirling in his stomach.

“Hey, no reason to apologize. I did say you could call me whenever you wanted or needed to, right? And I’m glad you did just that. Ah, there he is.” Patton said at the sound of doors opening and closing. The older man didn’t pause what he was doing to call out, “We’re in the bathroom, honey! Give us a few minutes.”

If Logan found that statement strange in any way, it didn’t show in his voice as he simply said, “Alright.” Virgil was just glad that there wasn’t going to be another person in the bathroom that already seemed too small with Patton moving around so much.

“Okay, there we are. This is probably going to sting, kiddo. Sorry about that.”

As Patton reached for his hands, Virgil cringed back, almost falling into the bathtub. “Wait, please- wait. I’m sorry, I- Sorry. I don’t really like- I can’t have people touching me.”

Panic rose in Virgil’s throat as he carefully watched Patton, afraid that the man would laugh off Virgil’s words or tell him to stop overreacting or call him a baby, like most people did, but Patton did the complete opposite- he took a few steps back and seemed to ponder something.

“Alright. And again, no reason to apologize. Let’s see... Can you hold your hand on your knee, and I’ll only touch you with the gauze? Is that ok?”

Virgil cautiously nodded and did as Patton suggested. Asking him permission every step of the way, Patton slowly pulled out as many pieces of glass as he could, throwing them into a bright blue plastic cup on the washing machine, then cleaned the blood off and wrapped it up carefully, first in gauze then in a bandage, asking Virgil to check if it was tight enough before moving onto the other hand.

Virgil wouldn’t have called the experience pleasant- Patton was still far too close for comfort, and he brushed Virgil accidentally once or twice despite his best efforts not to, and when he cleaned the wounds they stung so badly Virgil had to bite onto his lip so as not to cry out-, but it wasn’t panic-inducing either.

“There we go.” Patton said, sighing as he was finally finished. “I imagine you still want that water. I think the one from before has probably turned stale, so I’ll go fill you another glass.”

Once Patton was out, Virgil slid onto the ground, rolling his shoulders to try and get some of the tension out of them. Now that he no longer had to concentrate on Patton’s talking- the man had narrated everything he did, trying to distract Virgil from the pain-, he felt awkward again. Was he supposed to wait in here? Did Patton expect him to go back to the living room?

After what felt like an eternity, but what can’t have been more than a minute or two, so much anxious energy gathered in Virgil that he couldn’t stay put anymore. Hesitantly, he pushed the door open and went into a small hall, pausing for a second to note the two doors on one side of the bathroom and two doors on the other. Three of them were made of dark, soothing wood; the fourth was almost dauntingly white, and if it didn’t sound beyond silly Virgil would’ve sworn they kind of glowed.

Virgil moved on with a shake of his head and stepped into the living room, for a second distracted at the amount of books that lined the walls though he had seen them only fifteen minutes prior. An unwelcome voice popped up in his head, urging him to think of how flammable paper was and how quickly the whole apartment would burn down were _someone_ to light a match. Set on ignoring the voice, Virgil turned around and spotted Logan coming out of the kitchen.

Even what Virgil judged as Logan’s ‘relaxed clothes’ looked sensible on him- an unadorned dark blue tee (Logan seemed to have an affinity towards the color) that almost seemed tailored for him and a black tracksuit that somehow didn’t make him look sporty in the least bit.

Virgil waited for the questions when Logan laid his eyes on Virgil- surely at least Logan would demand some answers about why he interrupted their lives unannounced- and tried to brace himself, but Logan merely said, “Good evening, Virgil.”

“Good evening?” Virgil half-asked, but Logan didn’t seem to notice the insecurity in his voice and only nodded in acknowledgement at the greeting.

“Ah, Virgil. You didn’t have to move, I would’ve brought you the water in the bathroom.” Patton rushed out of the kitchen, this time with a green-tinted glass in his hands. “But if you wanted to, that’s fine. Do whatever makes you comfortable. Here.”

Virgil accepted the water and gulped it down, closing his eyes in relief as the blessedly-cool liquid ran down his throat. He thanked Patton and returned the glass.

“No problem.” Patton assured him with another one of his smiles, then out-of-the-blue said. “I imagine you must be tired. Let me show you to your room.”

After exchanging a meaningful look with Logan over Virgil’s head and caressing his husband’s arm affectionately- both of which Virgil pretended not to see- Patton led him to the first door on the right of the bathroom and opened it, reaching a hand to the right and pressing a switch so light flooded the room.

“Sorry about the mess, we’ll move it all out first thing tomorrow.” Patton said, voice a bit embarrassed as he nodded to a mountain of neatly stacked and labeled boxes. “It’s mostly administrative papers and essays and exams from Logan’s and my students.”

“You’re both teachers?” Virgil asked curiously; he had never got around to asking Margaret what either of them did.

“Yeah. Logan is a professor at a university and I teach in an elementary school and tutor on the side. I love working with kids- it’s always so fun to see them grow up and rewarding to help them be better people-, which always bemused Logan. He finds children to be too unpredictable and ‘wild’, as he put it, but I think that’s just another part of what makes them so interesting to work with.”

Virgil was grateful that Patton didn’t expect him to talk and instead rambled on as he moved the boxes closest to the bed away; he was so exhausted again he wasn’t sure he could hold any kind of conversation anymore.

“Oh!” Patton’s exclamation snapped Virgil back to attention and he tensed, watching Patton hit himself lightly on the forehead. “I forgot you don’t have any PJs right now. Wait, I’ll bring you a pair of mine.”

Patton brought him a set of silly green pyjamas with a pattern of dogs and cats that put a smile on Virgil’s face despite his mood. They looked like something you’d see in a children’s department of a clothing store, just made for adults.

“They’re gonna be a bit big for you, but Logan’s would be even worse, believe me. Do you need help changing?” When Virgil shook his head, Patton said, “Okay. I’ll leave you to rest, then. If you need anything at all, we’re right next door, so don’t be afraid to knock whenever. Good night, Virgil.”

“Good night.” Virgil replied, and Patton wished him sweet dreams before he left the room and closed the door gently behind him.

Almost in a daze Virgil changed into the pyjamas Patton had given him and turned the lights off before he lay down into the bed. The sheets smelled fresh and nice, like some kind of soft flower rather than the sharp, clean lemon of the ones in the orphanage. A part of Virgil was sure he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, despite his fatigue, but it was proved wrong when not a couple minutes later he slid into the dreamland.


	4. The Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I started another Prinxiety fanfic that somehow morphed from a cheery, coffeeshop AU into a dark, mafia AU by the time I began writing it. I finished the first chapter, but I wrote half of it on a piece of paper when I didn't have my laptop with me at grandma's and I forgot it there bcs ADHD, so I probably won't be able to publish it before the weekend :( I adore writing wholesome, edgy stuff like "More than you know" but I usually write darker stuff so I guess a part of me needs a way to channel it so it doesn't impact this lovely child.
> 
> Anyway, thank you a lot for all the kudos and the hits, I'm so glad so many people seem to like my work :) Hope you like this chapter and have a nice day, lovely people of the AO3. Love, Kat x
> 
> P.S. If you haven't had water today, GO HYDRATE PLEASE. And remember to take a breather and relax for a bit occasionally, there is a LOT of really stressful and/or bad stuff going on right now and you need to take care of yourself too.

Virgil woke up to sunlight in his eyes, momentarily dazed before he remembered he wasn’t in his corner in the orphanage bedroom where it was always at least somewhat dark, regardless of the time of day, but at Logan and Patton’s apartment.

He went to sit up with his hands, but the sharp pain reminded him of the glass and the wounds, so he wiggled up on his elbows instead and looked out the window, one that he hadn’t even noticed the night before. It overlooked a small lawn, so perfectly mowed it resembled a gold course, with a white table and a couple colorful outdoor chairs by it in the middle, hidden from the street by a tall, green hedge.

It was a bit warm in the room so Virgil opened it clumsily with his wrists and was immediately hit with a wave of cool air that made him shiver. Still, the small shock of the cold was quickly forgotten when he heard singing; he recognized the song as ‘Once upon a dream’, or a rendition of it- some verses were moved around and repeated in sequences he’d never heard before- and curiosity had him hanging his head out the window to see who was singing.

A boy walked over the grass, so smoothly it almost seemed like he was dancing; the red jacket he wore had a golden crown on the back with some words under it that Virgil couldn’t quite make out, and black jeans went down until red shoes that were probably converse, judging by the white soles, somehow the same color as the jacket. His hair was somewhere between wavy and curly and a sun-kissed shade of brown.

Virgil rested his forearms on the windowsill, humming the melody lowly as he listened. The boy had a truly beautiful voice, and he managed to put feeling into every word and weave a story; if someone had asked Virgil about it at that moment, he would claim that it was better than Aurora and Phillip’s singing without a thought. Virgil closed his eyes and enjoyed the song, still humming along.

He noticed that the singing had stopped only a beat after it did; he opened his eyes and looked down, gaze locking with the boy’s. He looked at Virgil with surprise and curiosity, green eyes shining in a way that had Virgil’s heart skipping a beat, and he quickly pulled back and slammed the window closed, falling onto bed so he would be out of view.

Restless, Virgil rolled out of bed, barely avoiding falling straight onto his face as he tried to gather his composure, and hurried out though he doubted the boy could see him anymore, or that he would be interested in staring for prolonged periods of time at the idiot that was Virgil. He nearly slammed into Patton when he exited the room, but the man was quick to swerve to the side and avoid collision.

“Good morning.” Patton said in an almost comically calm tone, though Virgil could tell by the amusement in his eyes that he was holding himself back from asking anything. “You’re up early. How did you sleep?”

“Fine.” Virgil said, and for some reason he was glad that he didn’t have to lie to Patton. He really did sleep alright, surprisingly so, and no nightmares chased him, or if they did he couldn’t remember them. He was so glad the universe finally cut him a small break that he didn’t question it much.

“I’m glad.” Patton said, smiling as he slipped his hands into his pockets, “Are you up for some breakfast? I was about to make pancakes, but if you have something else in mind...”

“Pancakes sound fine.” Virgil still didn’t feel particularly hungry, but at least he didn’t feel sick at the thought of food anymore.

“Great. You can look around if you like while I prepare them.”

Virgil nodded, and Patton disappeared out of sight. Not wanting to intrude or cross a line by looking through the two rooms Patton and Logan had yet to allow him access to (and there was no way he was looking through their bedroom- that was beyond weird and _definitely_ crossed the line), Virgil settled on wandering around the living room.

All the shelves but one were lined with books, and though he loved literature, curiosity drew him to the odd one out. It was filled mainly with knick-knacks and photographs- there were Logan and Patton at what appeared to be their wedding, dressed in fancy suits as they looked at each other, gazes almost glowing with adoration, one of them in this apartment, Patton kissing Logan’s cheek as Logan started to raise his gaze from the book in surprise, a small smile on his lips (who took that one?, Virgil wondered), one of Logan with two people who must have been his parents (Logan wasn’t smiling in that one; quite the opposite, he almost looked dissatisfied), and several of two of them with friends or acquaintances.

One such photo in particular captured Virgil’s attention- a group of people, a younger Logan and Patton among them, stood in front of the lilac building, smiling into the camera. A woman with greying hair had a hand on the shoulder of who was without a doubt the boy from before, though he looked to be about five in the picture- he had the same unique hair and green eyes, and Virgil could tell his posture was almost identical, though he didn’t remember paying attention to how he boy before.

It crossed his mind to ask Patton who the boy was, but that seemed like a weird thing to do, so he moved onto checking out the knick knacks instead. They ranged from tiny action figurines (Virgil recognized some, like Spiderman and Wonder Woman, but who the other characters were was a mystery to him) over an impressive collection of animals made from glass and wood (there were at least a dozen cats and almost the same amounts of dogs) to shiny, colorful stones. There was also a worn-out stuffed doll of Dr Seuss with long legs that hung off the edge of the shelf.

“Breakfast’s ready!” Patton announced as he carried out a plate with pancakes; Virgil held his breath, half-expecting the unsteady tower to topple down (Patton made far too much food for the two of them, unless he planned to eat a good dozen pancakes), but it held on as Patton put it down. “Lemme just get the plates and the toppings- I’ll get out what we have so you can choose what you like.”

“Okay.” Virgil said, then gestured in the general direction of the bedroom he slept in. “I’ll just, um, go get my hoodie.”

“You do that, kiddo.” Patton called out as he went back to the kitchen, thankfully not asking Virgil what the hell he needed his hoodie for when it was already so warm in the apartment. And it really was warm, almost uncomfortably so, though Virgil had yet to see a radiator or a heating panel. Maybe they used a different heating system? They must have.

Virgil went to open the door with his elbow when he noticed something hanging off of the handle. On a thin silver chain hung a piece of amethyst (or at least Virgil assumed it was amethyst since it was the only purple crystal he knew the name of), swaying lightly. Were Patton and Logan spiritualists of some kind?

Thinking about it as he put on his hoodie, Virgil decided that it might have been it. It made sense- it was probably what they meant when they said they would help him against the bad things happening in his life; they probably had some cleansing rituals under the moonlight at midnight or something that would banish the demons from his soul. Or was that what those Wiccan people did? Was there a difference? Virgil really didn’t know much about that kind of stuff.

A sound of something crashing made Virgil jump and he instinctively looked to the window next to him, thinking that he must have somehow broken it, but the glass was intact, and when he got control of his thoughts back Virgil decided that the crashing sound had come from further away.

He hurried out and saw Patton standing with a hand on his temple, pieces of a broken plate on the ground in front of him.

“P-Patton?” Virgil called out, unsure of what to do. “Are you- are you okay?”

Patton glanced up at him and smiled a tired smile; he looked tired overall, though Virgil only noticed it once he looked at the man more closely. There were dark circles under his eyes and he seemed too pale, like someone had sucked out all the color from his cheeks. “It’s all good, I just dropped the plates. Sorry if I scared you.”

Virgil stayed silent as Patton cleaned up the glass and put two new plates onto the table, hesitantly sitting down onto the chair opposite Patton when the older man called him over. They ate quietly and Virgil put bite after bite into his mouth, forcing himself to chew, but by the end of the first pancake he felt so sick that he started cutting up his food into tiny, tiny pieces so it seemed like he was doing something.

Whatever strange good mood that allowed Virgil to have a dreamless night and a somewhat-relaxed morning had disappeared and the anxiety and guilt over what happened yesterday came back at him full force. Had Margaret called the cops? He did steal her phone and endanger people, after all. Was it only a matter of time before someone knocked on the door and put handcuffs on him?

Gathering up the courage, Virgil slowly started, “About Margaret... what...”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, kiddo.” Patton interrupted him with a soft smile, much to Virgil’s gratitude. “We called her yesterday and explained that you were with us, and Logan returned her phone this morning before he went to his classes. She asked if you were okay and wished you all the best, and said you can come pick up your things whenever you have time.”

“I-I don’t want to go back there.” Virgil lowered his gaze to his plate and tensed his shoulders, afraid of what Patton would say to that. He really, really couldn’t go back, though that meant that he couldn’t get to his music, which was... less than ideal. At times, music was the only thing that kept him from doing something very stupid to deal with the thoughts in his head.

“That’s alright. Do you want us to go instead? I can ask Logan to get what you need on his way back from work.”

“I don’t- need anything, really. It’s fine.” Virgil said, though even now he desperately needed his headphones; he’d already burdened them so much that asking for anything else was just ridiculously selfish. They gave him a bed, and food, and they requested nothing in return. What else did he want?

“Okay, if you say so.” Patton said, not pushing the topic further though he clearly didn’t believe Virgil. “We’ll have to go shopping for clothes and other necessities for you at some point, by the way, now that you reminded me. It doesn’t have to be today, or tomorrow, or this week even- you’re free to keep borrowing stuff from us, and we have a spare toothbrush somewhere-, just keep it in mind.”

Guilt suffocated him, though he objectively knew he’d need clothes. But clothes were expensive, and shopping centers were full of people and store assistants that you had to talk to and try to avoid, and the music they played in malls was usually some kind of calm and quiet melody that only made Virgil even more anxious.

“Virgil? You okay?” Patton asked, concern evident in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Just not very hungry.” Virgil muttered, pushing what was now a mountain of crumbs around the plate with his fork. “Can I- can I be excused?”

“Of course! We don’t really have any video games, but you can watch TV or read a book if you like.” Patton offered, which only had Virgil shrinking even more. Why was he always so _kind?_ People weren’t that kind, they just weren’t. It was always only a matter of time before Virgil would anger them and they’d show their dark side, and it was unsettling that that hasn’t happened yet. It probably would soon, once Patton realized that Virgil was nothing more than a waste of space and time.

“No, I- I’ll just go to my room, if that’s okay.”

“If that’s what you want to do.” Patton said, not an ounce of malice in his words, though he did sound increasingly worried. “I’ll be in the living room working, so if at any time you need anything at all, you know where to find me.”

Virgil nodded and slid to his room, falling on the bed he had yet to make. He laid there for a bit, staring at the ceiling, thinking of nothing as he listened to himself breathe in, and out, in, and out. It had the closest effect on him to music, and his anxiety slowly drained out of him, once again reaching a tolerable level.

Usually when he had nothing to do he would nap- he was always tired from never getting enough sleep at night, and it was easy to conk out-, but he felt wide awake. He couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t feel exhausted by mid-morning- was there ever such a time? Bored, he peeked out the closed window, ducking down when he noticed the people sitting at the table. Slowly he looked out again, making sure that no one was gazing in his direction before he sat up to study them.

Three adults, all dressed wildly different but for the white gloves, chatted with cups of what seemed like coffee to Virgil in their hands. He couldn’t tell what they were saying but it looked like a laid-back conversation, with only one of them- an older woman Virgil recognized as the lady that stood next to the boy in the picture when she threw her head back in laughter- gesturing often as she sipped on her beverage.

Virgil watched them for some time, trying to figure out what they were talking about, but his game was interrupted when suddenly all three of them stood up and disappeared out of view. Left with nothing else to do, Virgil stared at the passing cars beyond the hedge, counting them disinterestedly. He wished that he had taken up Patton on his offer to read something, but now it was too late for that- it would be far too awkward to look through the living room when Patton was there.

His head perked up from where it came to rest on the window when he heard footsteps passing in front of his door some time later, followed by the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor, then hushed voices. At first it sounded like arguing and Virgil tensed up, readying himself for the shouting that would surely ensue, but the voices calmed down and there was a knock on his door.

“Virgil? Do you mind if I come in?” Logan called out and pushed the door open when Virgil said he doesn’t. He was dressed similarly to the first time Virgil saw him, his shirt so discreetly different that Virgil couldn’t tell _why_ it was different, only that it was. Or maybe it was his tie? Feeling like he was beginning to stare, Virgil looked at the wall instead.

“Um, hello.” Virgil said, shuffling where he sat though he tried to stay still.

“Hello.” Logan greeted in return, and a bit awkwardly asked, “How are today, Virgil?”

“Fine?”

Logan nodded and looked about as relieved that that was over as Virgil was- neither seemed to be particularly comfortable when emotions were involved. “Good. I’m here to remove the boxes and free up the space for the dresser,” He gestured to his right, and Virgil hummed in acknowledgment even though he couldn’t see anything from where he sat. “as well as whatever else you choose to decorate your space with. Oh, and Doctor Stoll said to give this to you. I told her repeatedly that you never asked for it, but she insisted I take it, so I did.”

Virgil’s eyes teared up a little at the sight of his MP3 player and his headphones, and he was almost overcome with a desire to hug Logan as the man approached and handed them to Virgil. Imagining that that wouldn’t be pleasant for anyone involved, Virgil only nodded in gratitude, but Logan seemed satisfied with it and picked up the first box with ease.

Virgil settled the headphones next to him gently and jumped up to his feet, catching Logan’s attention when the man walked back in a few seconds later. “I can help, with the boxes.”

“Of course you can’t.” Patton said as he popped up, wagging his finger at Virgil’s hands in a way that somehow didn’t look completely ridiculous. “You’re still hurt, young man. Don’t worry, Logan and I will handle this.”

“You’re not helping either, dear.” Logan said easily as he went in and out, ignoring the unsatisfied look Patton threw him. “You should lie down and rest.”

“I’m fine!” Patton protested, managing to sound so childish that Virgil’s eyebrows jumped up. “I don’t need sleep and I can help! I’m an adult!”

“You’re acting like a five year old, Patton. You were awake the whole night- it’s only reasonable that your mental and motor functions would be impacted by it.”

Patton’s jaw practically fell open. “Are you calling me stupid right now?”

Logan shot him a look packed with meaning in response, still unmoved though Patton only seemed to get more fired up. “You know you act irrationally when sleep-deprived, and that using your... that doing certain activities drains you further.” Well, Virgil _definitely_ didn’t want to think about what Logan meant by ‘certain activities’. Nope. Not noticing that Virgil suddenly found the floor very interesting, Logan said, “Is this really the message you want to send to Virgil?”

“No.” Patton muttered and huffed out in defeat, passing a head through his hair. “I guess I should probably take a nap.”

“I’m sure you will, or I’ll have to make you my valerian root tea.”

Patton scrunched up his nose in disgust and simply said, “Ew.”

Seeing as he clearly wasn’t needed for the conversation, Virgil sat back down on the bed, playing with the cord of his headphones. He didn’t feel like he could just put music on with the door open and Logan and Patton in the room- that would mean he wouldn’t be able to tell where they were and what they were doing around him, and he wouldn’t be able to hear them, and that wouldn’t exactly make him feel safe.

Logan was done surprisingly quickly, with only reddened cheeks as proof of the work- he was stronger than he looked, or at least than how strong Virgil thought tall, lanky teacher-type people were. He wasn’t sure if that stereotype stemmed from prejudices, or from his third-grade math teacher who once huffed and puffed after he moved a couple small plants across the classroom.

It took Logan a bit more effort to single-handedly push in the big closet, and Virgil once again offered his help and was once again turned down. A few pain-staking minutes later, the beautiful piece of furniture was inside and Virgil resisted passing his hand over the smooth, dim wood and the subtle carvings that all but invited him to do that.

“The wardrobe should be satisfactory to your needs, but Patton reminded me to ask your opinion as well, and he had a right. Do you- do you like it?” Logan suddenly sounded nervous, his fingers inconspicuously tapping against his thigh.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.” Virgil replied honestly, unwrapping the cord from his finger when it felt like it was starting to stop his bloodstream. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Logan’s shoulders relaxed and his fingers halted. “And I’m glad it’s to your liking. Now that that’s settled- is there any foods you can’t or don’t eat? I’m making lunch and it wouldn’t be ideal if I made something you won’t eat.”

Quite a few foods made Virgil feel icky, but there was no way he was telling Logan that. He’d eaten stuff he didn’t like before, even stuff that nearly made him sick, and he wasn’t going to act like a spoiled brat just because Logan was kind enough to ask. “Anything is fine.”

“Excellent. I’ll call you when lunch is ready. Do you want me to close the door?”

“Yes, please.” Virgil waited while Logan did that to scramble up and pass the tips of his fingers over the wardrobe, feeling the pleasant coolness of the wood on them. His very own wardrobe, Virgil thought with a content smile, resting his cheek on it.

Then he jolted and pulled back. _His_ wardrobe? What the heck was that about? The wardrobe wasn’t his, it was Logan’s and Patton’s- he just happened to be allowed to use it for clothes he still didn’t have. He carefully avoided thinking of anything as _his_ because sooner or later it was taken away, every time; getting attached to things was just setting yourself up for more heartbreak when the inevitable happened.

And yet, he had called this room his before. He called the bed his, too. And even worse, he _felt_ like they were his; he wasn’t saying it just to appease Logan or Patton. Oh, God. He had been here for less than a day and he was already getting attached to everything, and he talked with Logan and Patton instead of staring at them until they walked away and sent him back to the orphanage because he _wanted_ to talk to them. His heart wanted to trust them so badly that it was tripping Virgil already.

With those troubling thoughts, Virgil laid back on his bed and turned the music on, hoping that somehow it would cleanse them from his mind and he would be back to not caring, because if he didn’t... that would be bad.

Really, _really_ bad.


	5. The Shopping Mall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to study some history, but I got so annoyed with this idiot king we had in my country like 150 years ago and his idiotic military choices that I was like, ya know what? Why don't I do something I actually wanna do? Like spend five hours writing another chapter. 
> 
> I can't believe I'm almost at 50 kudos! That's so amazing! I'm super super glad and grateful so many people like my writing child :D I'll try to write a chapter or two before Monday, but then my hell week starts again and I have like 7 exams (that i have studied basically nothing for oops) so I probably won't update before Friday or Saturday (If I do update it probably means I have given up on my education and honestly, after 12 years, who can blame me?)
> 
> Anyway, pity parade aside, hope you enjoy this chapter as well! Have a nice day and take care of yourself! Love, Kat x

As expected, the shopping mall was infested with people walking around, chatting, dragging children that pointed fingers to toys and ice cream stores they passed by. Virgil regretted saying he wanted to go the moment they pulled into the parking lot, but three days had passed already and his anxiety over constantly borrowing Patton’s clothes had reached its maximum and Virgil knew it was time to get over with what was sure to be an unpleasant experience.

Logan looked equally uncomfortable with the crowd, but he said nothing of it as they made way through the sea of people, his hand in Patton’s. Virgil cowardly kept behind them, his hood pulled over his head, as he tried to minimize the amount of people he might touch.

He wished he could be back at the apartment listening to music or reading a book- the Sanders’ had a truly impressive collection, as Virgil discovered on his second day there when he finally gathered the courage to inspect it, and after he found a few titles he already loved from before he dug into them. Patton and Logan mostly left him alone, only asking that he come to meals, and even then they talked about things Virgil didn’t understand, never requesting that he participate, for which Virgil was grateful.

So far things were seemingly going fairly well, and Virgil’s dreamless nights had continued, which not only confused, but also terrified him- it was only a matter of time before the nightmares came back, and he couldn’t know when that would be. They probably waited until Virgil was lulled into a sense of comfort to come out of the part of their brain that they hid in and attack.

Another thing that put Virgil on edge were the short arguments Patton and Logan had every morning, like clockwork; it always followed the same pattern- Logan on the offense, Patton on the defense. He could tell they tried to keep it from him, but it was impossible to not notice, especially since it made the conversation at breakfast strained and short.

Logan’s dissatisfaction would disappear by the time he came back from work, and he would smile and talk affectionately with Patton like nothing had happened, but it didn’t stop Virgil from speculating- was he the cause of the arguments? Probably. He was probably the reason Patton always seemed like he hadn’t slept in days when he woke up, too. They were most likely talking about sending him back, but still hadn’t agreed on when.

“Virgil?”

Virgil lifted his head at Patton’s voice. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to see what they have here?” Patton asked, gesturing to a store they had stopped by, filled with so many colors that Virgil’s head spun a little. The sign over it said _Valorie’s Rainbow_ and Virgil found that it suited the contents of the store.

“Sure?” Virgil answered; he didn’t particularly want to go anywhere, so whatever Patton chose was fine. A couple other families had taken him shopping and bought him sparkly or loud blue and green things Virgil was really glad he had overgrown as he got older; since then he only ever wore black or washed out things that were so dull no one paid attention to them, or to Virgil who wore them.

“You can go look around, if you like. We’ll be in the tie section if you need us, but here-“ Patton pulled out his phone out of his pocket, handing it to a stunned Virgil. “Call Logan’s number if you can’t find us- he’s under H for Honey.”

“Patton, seriously.” Logan protested, and Virgil swore he was blushing, though he imagined the man would never admit it. “That’s a ridiculous alias to put me under in your contacts.”

“My phone, my rules. _Honey.”_ Patton teased, lightly hitting Logan’s shoulder with his own before he turned to Virgil again. “We’ll see you in a bit, and remember- if at any moment something’s wrong, or you want to leave for whatever reason, ring us up. Have fun!”

Virgil didn’t even have time to protest the fact Patton had just handed him his phone as if it was nothing before the men turned a corner and were out of view. Brows furrowed, Virgil turned the screen on and a photo of Logan holding a small, fluffy dog in his arms flashed on, making Virgil’s lips quirk up despite his disbelief. Patton didn’t even have a password, for Christ’s sake. How could he just trust Virgil with something so important so easily?

People kept most of their lives on their phones and computers these days- it was the equivalent of handing your diary to a stranger as a child. Shaking his head at it- Patton really trusted people too much-, Virgil turned the screen off again and put the phone in his pocket carefully, tapping it over the fabric to make sure it was secure before he breathed in and started walking.

Most things that appealed to him were black or dim-colored- well, he wasn’t sure that _appeal_ was the right word; it wasn’t like he judged things on how much he liked them, but on how invisible they made him seem. A few shirts he really _did_ like, but the price tags had him quickly retreating his hands and moving on. In the end he found some discounted plain black shirts and marked them in his head before he went on.

He was painstakingly looking through jeans when Patton popped up alone, a small mountain of clothes hung over his arm. “Hi again! I know it’s been like only twenty minutes and that I meant to leave you alone, but there are _so many_ cute things around and I couldn’t help but pick some out for you to try.”

Patton’s words fell over each other and he had a grin on his face like he just drank half a dozen energy drinks. “Are you okay?” Virgil asked carefully, looking behind him, “Where’s Logan?”

“I’m fine! Great! I accidentally went into the children’s department and it’s Saturday and there were so many kids running around and kids are so _energetic,_ you haven’t the slightest idea, and it rubbed off on me. What was the second question? Oh right, “Patton continued before Virgil had a chance to repeat it, “Logan! Yes, my darling Logan. He went to get some things from the pharmacy quickly, and then he’ll be back.”

“Okay.”

Patton clapped his hands together, nearly toppling all the items to the floor. “Well, what have you found so far? Anything fun?”

“Not really, but I did find some shirts. I’m sorry, I still haven’t picked out anything else.”

“That’s all fine! Do you want to try the things I found? I think they should be your size.”

“Sure?” Virgil said, not wanting to say no when Patton had gone through the trouble for him. He really shouldn’t have, that went without saying, but he didn’t want Patton to feel like Virgil didn’t feel grateful for it.

Then something really strange happened as they walked around, trying to find the changing rooms- anytime Virgil glanced at something and liked it, even a little bit, Patton would add it to his growing pile like he could read Virgil’s mind.

Though Virgil thought it was impossible- of course it was impossible, stuff like that didn’t happen in real life- Virgil still tried to think of ridiculous things, and funny stuff, and then he had a whole, short monologue about the gruesome murder he saw on TV once. When Patton didn’t laugh, or seem disgusted, Virgil sighed in relief- no mind-reading then. Maybe it was gut instinct or something?

Thankfully, the changing rooms were almost empty, and Virgil was spared from small talk with the woman who stood in front of them, putting discarded things back on hangers, by Patton’s presence. He happily chatted away with her while Virgil ducked into one of the changing rooms, knees almost buckling under the weight of the clothes.

There was a huge, floor-length mirror and a small bench that Virgil settled the clothes onto as he took his hoodie and Patton’s shirt off. He turned his back to the mirror as he pulled the first shirt on, a simple green tee with a small pocket over the breast. Patton got the length correctly, but the shirt hung on Virgil a bit despite it- it wasn’t Patton fault though, shirts just did that when it came to Virgil.

He kinda liked it, and it was a dark color, so he put it on the ‘maybe’ pile. It took some time while he waded through the rest of the shirts- some he put in ‘like’ pile, some he was conflicted about, and some ended up on the ‘no’ pile either because they were too flashy or because the fabric gave Virgil unpleasant goosebumps as soon as he touched it.

There was a ridiculous shirt that he really liked, though, a purple one with a huge black cat in a witch hat on the front that made a silly face. He put it on the ‘like’ pile gingerly, caressing the soft fabric for a moment before he moved onto jeans.

Now, jeans were an even bigger problem. Shirts that he was too thin for were one thing, but when jeans were too big they tended not to stay where they should. Only one pair stood on his hips, but it was so tight that he had trouble moving around, so Virgil put them on the ‘no’ pile. Virgil sighed gratefully when he saw, after a few painful minutes of attempted to get the pants to stay, that Patton has also included a belt in his pile- it made the whole process a lot easier.

There were a few sweaters in there too, but Virgil immediately put them onto the ‘no’ pile- he already had his hoodie, and he wouldn’t allow them to waste any money on something he didn’t need. Hesitantly, Virgil peaked out some time later and quietly said, “I’m done.” but Patton heard him despite his low volume and smiled.

“Great! Let me help you with that.” Patton gave the things Virgil had put on the ‘no’ pile to the woman, taking the other two piles and saying goodbye to her before Virgil could explain the piles.

“You don’t have to buy all that!” He finally managed to stammer when they got away from the changing rooms. “I didn’t mean you should buy all that, just a few things! I-“

Patton interrupted and smiled down at him, “You liked them, right? The clothes.”

“Yes, but the money-“

The older man simply waved him away, as if it was nothing. “Don’t worry about that, kiddo. Money’s Logan’s and my responsibility; besides, we’re hardly starving. We’ve saved up plenty over the years, and we _want_ to spend it on you.”

“But-“

“Uh-uh, no buts. We came here to get you clothes, and that’s what we’re doing.”

For such a kind, soft person, Patton was immovable when he made up his mind, and after a few more attempts at convincing him, Virgil gave up and went quiet. He let his gaze wonder as they walked to the cashier, too tired to do anything else.

Then he came to a stop suddenly, not even realizing it because he was too entranced. It was beautiful. Magnificent. _Perfect._ A few feet from him hung a big hoodie, black with purple patches and artistic white thread on the seams. Remembering the previous instances where Patton ‘read his mind’ (Virgil knew that wasn’t it, but he still didn’t know what else to call it), Virgil quickly turned away, but Patton had already gone over and put it on the pile in his arms.

“It must be worth a fortune!” Virgil protested; Patton only smiled at him. “Your hoodie’s getting too small for you, kiddo- soon you’ll grow out of it. And besides, it’s always good to have a backup.”

_Backup_ clothes? Who needed backup clothes when the current ones were perfectly functional?! But Virgil kept his frustration and guilt to himself, and didn’t say anything as Patton went to pay for the clothes; the blood did drain out of his face when the price was announced, but Patton didn’t seem fazed and only handed over a credit card.

“Let’s go find Logan- he’s probably waiting for us by the pharmacy.” Patton said, taking the concerning amount of bags into his hands, refusing to hand any to Virgil when Virgil said he should be the one to carry them.

Logan was waiting where Patton had assumed he was, scribbling something into a small, purple handbook. He snapped it closed as they approached and slid it into an inside pocket of his coat, moving the small, white bag of what was presumably medicine from one hand to another.

“Are you finished?” He inquired, raising an eyebrow at the bags.

“Yup!” Patton answered excitedly, pressing a small kiss to Logan’s cheek. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Most of it. I’ll order the rest from Inge, as per usual.” Logan gestured to the small bag in his hand, and Patton nodded.

“Great! I really want some ice cream right now. How about you boys?”

“It’s fifteen degrees outside, Patton.” Logan scolded, but Patton was undisturbed. “It’s never too cold for ice cream! Do you want some, Virgil?”

“No, thank you.” Virgil didn’t want ice cream, he wanted to go home and fall into a coma and never again come anywhere near the shopping mall, or any place with more than three people at once.

“How about some chocolate-chip cookies? They have really good ones around here.” Patton offered instead, and Virgil’s heart jumped- he _loved_ chocolate-chip cookies. Before he could refuse that too, though, Patton said, “Awesome! You two go to the car, I’ll catch up with you.”

“Patton, the bags. You can’t drag them around.” Logan said, stopping his husband before he could run off like a child chasing... well, the ice cream truck.

“Right, right, here you go. See you in a bit!”

Virgil waited until Patton was out of sight, then said, “I can take a few, so you don’t have to carry all of them.”

“Thank you, Virgil. Here, take half.”

They walked in silence for a bit, but then Virgil saw his chance and asked carefully, “How does- how does Patton seem to know what you want?”

“He’s... very attune to people’s emotions, to put it simply. He can’t read your thoughts, but he can tell what makes you happy, what makes you sad, what makes you angry, and so on, and he reacts based on that information.”

“Oh.” Virgil said. “That’s... pretty cool.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Logan said shortly, and he seemed somewhat put-off, and he didn’t say anything else. Virgil too fell back into the silence, somewhat disconcerted by Logan’s mood, and they waited in the car until Patton all but ran to them, three huge boxes in his arms.

“You wouldn’t believe how many sweets they had!” Patton huffed out as he put on his seatbelt and settled in, resting the boxes on his lap. Logan started the car as Patton continued, “I was going to buy only the chocolate-chip cookies, but they had some glazed donuts too, and éclairs, and these tiny cheese cakes...”

“We’re never going to be able to eat all that, Patton.” Logan rationalized when Patton ran out of breath; there was a momentary pause while he got air back into his lungs.

“Of course we will! I know you don’t like sweets that much, but Virgil will take some, maybe, and I can eat the rest.”

“That’s out of the question- the last two times you tried that, you got terrible stomach aches, remember?”

“Unfortunately.” Patton grumbled, deflating a little as he sighed. “I suppose we could share it with everyone. What a great idea, actually! We’ll hold a small get-together! In the garden.” He added with a glance at Virgil, who was becoming increasingly panicked at the thought of a bunch of people in the apartment- would he have to greet them? Talk to them? Would they try to kiss his cheeks or pat his shoulder or something like that?. “You can stay at home, if you like, and you do get first choice of everything, so don’t worry- they won’t eat everything.”

Virgil nodded, his heart slowing a bit at the clarification. He tuned out of Patton and Logan’s conversation as they drove back, looking out the window until they pulled in front of the lilac building. Releasing his seat belt, Virgil got out and took as many bags as he could carry, and Patton thankfully didn’t try to take them from him as they went in, though he did throw Virgil a ‘you’ll get away with it now’ look.

This time Patton unlocked the doors with a key and Virgil furrowed his eyebrows in confusion- had he only been seeing things last time? That must be it. His shoulders relaxed at the mystery solved; he had been tired last time, and he bled out some, and it was pretty dark, so he probably didn’t see Patton unlock it. Or maybe he had forgotten to lock it when he hurried to get Virgil, and that’s why he just opened it.

His thoughts roamed as they approached the elevator, then his heart leapt into his throat and he jolted when someone shouted ‘boo!’ and jumped out from behind a tall plant by the lift.

“Hey, Roman. How’s it going?” Patton sad with a smile, and the boy- wait, was that the singing boy?- crossed his arms and stomped his foot on the ground in mock-frustration.

“Oh, come on, Mr. Sanders! Were you not even a _little_ scared this time?” The boy- Roman- huffed.

“I’m always scared in my heart, I just brave through it and never show it.” Patton replied, his smile growing.

“I’ll- hey, you’re that kid from the window!” Roman suddenly shouted, green eyes meeting Virgil’s; he got an impulsive need to hide behind Logan, but pushed it down- what was he, a two-year-old?

“I don’t know what you mean.” Virgil muttered instead, shifting from foot to foot, though he couldn’t look away- there was something almost hypnotic in the beauty of Roman’s eyes, like he was glancing at a mesmerizing crystal from another world. 

“No, no, I remember you! I thought you were a wraith or something, haunting Mr. and Mr. Sanders, but it makes sense that you aren’t- you’re too pretty to be one.” Roman tattled on, and heat rose into Virgil’s cheek, but he didn’t have time to say anything as Roman asked cautiously, “You aren’t a wraith, _right?”_

“No, he’s not a wraith.” Patton replied, a laugh escaping him. “Roman, this is Virgil. Virgil, Roman Prince. Virgil’s living with us for now.”

“Oh, wow, that’s cool! It’s _so boring_ in here during the summer break, there are only adults and old people around- well, there’s Opal, but she’s only four, and there are only so many things you can talk about with a four year old, you know?”

“I guess?” Virgil said, feeling like someone was shooting him with a paintball gun- Roman talked clearly, but he strung one word after the next, seemingly never coming up for air.

As if feeling how overwhelmed Virgil was- and maybe he did-, Patton jumped in. “We really have to go now, Roman, but say high to your grandma for me, will you?”

“Sure! Goodbye Mr. and Mr. Sanders! Bye, Virgil!” He waved and was dashing up the stairs as if his life depended on it, and the trio got into the elevator.

“Sorry about that, Virgil. Roman’s very...”

“Energetic?” Virgil said, mimicking the word Patton had used before.

“Exactly.” Patton agreed, another smile shining on his face.

“The Princes were always very high-strung; it’s no wonder their son is too.” Logan commented, letting Patton through so his husband could open the doors.

“That they were. Do you need help folding these into your closet, Virgil?”

“I’m good.” Virgil said, and Patton handed him the rest of the bags and, opening the top box Logan had put on the dining table, put a cookie into Virgil’s hand. “There you go. The others will be in the kitchen when you want them.”

“Thanks.” Virgil said and trudged to his room, closing the doors before he put the bags down and sat on the bed, biting into the cookie. Chocolate exploded on his tongue and he closed his eyes to enjoy the moment; he couldn’t remember when he last ate something so good. He wanted a second cookie, and maybe a third, but he was so tired from walking around the mall and the noise and avoiding other people that he only fell on the bed, thinking that he would take a small breather.

But he fell asleep quickly, and this time, he wasn’t so fortunate to escape the nightmares.


	6. The Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: domestic abuse
> 
> I'm back! I'm still not ready for any of the exams, don't worry, but I'm totally ignoring it rn lol. I'll study tomorrow, maybe. Anyhow, going on Tumblr this morning was... interesting. Who's still recovering from destiel putin georgia nevada 2012-revisited fever? I'm still reeling and its been like eight hours. Tumblr sure is... something.
> 
> That hell aside, I hope everyone's doing at least semi-fine and is having at least a semi-nice day. Remember to unclench your jaw, stretch a bit, breathe deeply for a few times and stay hydrated. Love, Kat x

He was so, so hungry, and though he tried to curl up on his bed and ignore the hole in his stomach, it still gnawed on his insides. Father hadn’t given him anything to eat all day, and half the chocolate bar a nice girl shared with him in school this morning had managed to ward off the hunger for only a few minutes.

He didn’t want much, maybe just a thin slice of bread with butter. Virgil carefully rolled off of the bed and stood up on wobbly legs, starting for the door. Yeah, that’s it. He would just have that, and maybe a piece of ham if there was enough of it left that taking some wouldn’t be noticeable. It was Friday and father was away until the sun went down every Friday, so by the time that father came back Virgil will have washed and dried and put everything back in place.

Though he was alone in the house, Virgil carefully opened the house and peeked outside, heart beating loudly in his ears. He stood there for a moment, debating if this was a good idea- what if father saw on his face that he had taken food without asking? What if he locked him in the Closet for it? Virgil shivered at the thought. The beatings hurt his body and left ugly purple bruises, but the Closet was so much worse; it was dark and small and Virgil always had trouble breathing in it.

No, no, father wouldn’t know. Virgil repeated it in his head like a mantra as he made slow way to the kitchen. Father wouldn’t know. He didn’t let himself think anything else as he carefully cut the slice of bread on the board, then a see-through piece of butter and lastly some ham. Quickly he stuffed it into his mouth, not wanting to risk crumbs getting onto the floor, and chewed as he washed the knife and the board, then dried them and put them back in their place.

He returned the ham and the butter to the fridge, making sure they were positioned exactly as he remembered finding them, and hesitant hope started blooming in his chest. Father wouldn’t know. He would get away with it, and he wouldn’t stay awake for a long time again because his stomach was churning, and maybe tomorrow morning father would make him a sandwich like he did sometimes on Saturdays and everything would be okay for a bit.

Humming a little under his breath, Virgil opened the cupboard and stood on his toes so he could slip the loaf into it. Father wouldn’t know. It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be just fine.

When he heard the locks click, at first he didn’t acknowledge it for what it was, but then it got through to his head and his blood froze in his veins. He stood where he was, petrified, hand still on the shelf as the door swung open and father appeared, the bright lamp from the hall making his look like God’s angry messenger.

The only thing Virgil could think as his father spotted him and started shouting was that father was drunk. Drunk could be good, sometimes. When father drank too much out with his colleagues he wouldn’t even remember Virgil and he would go straight to his bedroom and fall asleep; there would be no shouting, no horrible words and no bruises.

But this was bad drunk, when father didn’t have enough whiskey and his intoxication made him even meaner instead of benign. It was almost always when he was bad drunk that Virgil ended up in the Closet, and wasn’t let out until morning- no amount of crying or begging would make the doors open, and he would be forced to sing in his head (if he sang out loud father might hear, and father hated it when he sang) and count to ten over and again to try and calm himself.

Virgil heard the noise that came from father’s mouth, but his brain couldn’t process the words; pain bloomed in his cheek and the hit sent him sprawling across the floor; he tried to scramble back, but it was no use. He heard pleading as if from a distance, and he later knew it must have come from him though he didn’t feel like it did- there was only the pain and the insults, a terrifying, loud voice calling him stupid and worthless and a waste of money and space and how dare he touch something that wasn’t his-

“Virgil!”

He shot up in bed, breath coming in desperate rasps, and for a second he feared that he had suddenly gone blind; however, it was just tears in his eyes, and when they rolled down his cheeks his vision cleared and he saw Patton’s face. The older man sat next to him, hands hovering over Virgil as if he didn’t know whether or not to touch him, and Virgil was so giddy on relief he fell into Patton’s embrace, arms tightly hugging Patton. He buried his face into Patton’s chest and started weeping like he hadn’t in a long, long time.

He felt Patton hug him back gently, his hands rubbing Virgil’s back, heard his calming voice in his ear.

“Shhh. It’s okay. I’m here, kiddo. I’m here.”

Virgil cried until his tears dried out and he was left hiccupping, a sense of calmness settling over him slowly. Even when it did and he felt steadier, Virgil didn’t want to let go- he couldn’t remember when he had last hugged someone, when he had last felt like he wanted to, even, and the warmth of Patton’s body and the softness of his sweater made him feel so, so safe. Patton didn’t seem eager to let go, either, and they stayed that way until Logan’s voice interrupted.

“Here you go, Virgil. It’s important to hydrate after you’ve cried.”

Virgil moved back, turning to Logan to accept the glass of water with both hands; he drank it slowly, knowing from experience that drinking it too quickly would have his stomach churning uncomfortably.

Logan offered a second glass to Patton, this one filled with something that looked like grape juice- was it wine? Virgil wondered-, but Patton shook his head and said, “I don’t need it.”

“Patton. It’s not up for debate.”

“You know I hate that stuff, it makes me feel weird.” Logan started to say something else, but Patton interrupted him. “I don’t want to argue about this right now, Logan.”

“Alright.” Logan said, but by the tenseness in his shoulders Virgil could tell that the argument was only postponed. His face softened, though, when he turned to Virgil, “Do you need anything else? Some tea, perhaps? We have a wide array of flavors and types to choose from.”

“No, thank you.” Virgil said, lowering his hands with the now empty glass onto the bed. “I’m fine.”

“Do you want to be alone for a bit? Or if not, we can go watch a movie or something.” Patton offered, getting up from the bed; he swayed a bit, and Logan put his arm around Patton’s waist to steady him. Virgil looked at Patton worriedly, but the older man continued as if nothing had happened. “I think they’re screening Jumanji in a bit.”

“I think I’ll stay here for a bit. I, um, I still haven’t organized the clothes.” Virgil explained, gesturing the bags by the closet that sat untouched.

“Okay, whatever you want. Dinner is in about an hour, but if you still don’t want to come out by then I’ll bring it to you here.”

Wow, Virgil must’ve looked really bad if he was allowed to break the meal rule- his suspicions about his own pathetic appearance were confirmed when Logan didn’t object and only said, “We’re having quesadilla, in case you were curious.”

“Quesadilla sounds great.” Virgil said, surprised that he couldn’t wait. Usually after nightmares he’d struggle to get a piece of toast into his stomach without feeling sick, but now he felt really, really hungry, like the starvation from the dream followed him into reality.

“W-wait! Can I have, uh- never mind, actually.” Virgil muttered when two curious pairs of eyes settled on him, shrinking as much as he could in hopes they’d pretend they hadn’t heard him.

“No, no, finish, please. What did you want to say?” Patton implored, eyes shining with delight like Virgil did something extraordinary.

Feeling very awkward, Virgil played his fingers as he said, “I was, um, going to ask if I can have some cookies? But it’s fine if not.” He quickly added, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Well, sweets less than a couple hours before dinner aren’t an ideal choice, but... why not?” Logan said, smiling a little. “I’ll bring you some in just a minute- I need to settle Patton onto the couch first.”

“Geez, you make it sound like I’m eighty or something.” Patton protested, “I’m not that unwell, I’m just a bit dizzy!”

“If you say so, darling. Come on.”

Virgil waited until they’d left to crack open the window and let some fresh air, breathing it deeply until the cold of it almost stung his lungs; he stood up and tightened the sheets that became twisted during the nightmare. Then he opened the first bag, setting the things down on the bed before he opened the closet and surveyed the available space.

There was a knock on the door and Logan came in, carrying a plate with half a dozen cookies on it in one hand and scissors in the other. “Here you go. And I brought you some scissors- you might need them to remove the tickets from your clothing items.”

“Thank you.” Virgil said, accepting them both. He was glad Logan had thought of the scissors because Virgil would’ve probably had to remove the tickets with his teeth, which probably wasn’t very good for them. Nodding, Logan left him again.

Virgil folded the clothes expertly and put them onto shelves; though there were far more clothes than Virgil objectively needed, the closet was still so big that he made smaller piles in order to leave no shelf empty. When he got to the hoodie he hugged it, not even caring if he looked silly since he was all alone, and put it on one of the hangers in the right side of the closet, caressing one of its sleeves before he moved on.

He ate cookies in between, riding his hands from the crumbs through the window so they didn’t litter the floor. It took him a bit of time to put everything where he wanted to, but by the end of it he was content with how it looked. He poked the cat on the shirt (of course he put it on top of the pile, it deserved to be displayed in all its ridiculous glory) and marveled at the insides of the closet; all those clothes, his.

Or at least they said they were his. Virgil still hesitated to believe it, but as time passed he started to trust that they kept their word, if nothing else. And there were still no Incidents, so if they did anything to keep them at bay- maybe _that’s_ what the amethyst on his door handle did?-, it was working so far.

Virgil settled on the bed with his book (there was still no furniture other than the bed and the closet in his room, so he usually kept them on one of the shelves in the wardrobe), putting his headphones on though he didn’t intend to listen to music- their weight was comforting, and they also muted the outside sounds enough that they didn’t bother Virgil.

He was engrossed in the story when Patton knocked on the door and announced dinner was ready, and though he really wanted to continue reading, he put the book and the headphones aside with a sigh and went to wash his hands; he didn’t want to worry either of them by saying he wanted to eat in his room, especially since he felt well enough to eat with them.

The quesadillas smelled delicious and Virgil dug in the moment Patton put a couple on his plate, reveling in the way the cheese melted on his tongue. Virgil had tried a quesadilla once before, but it didn’t even get close to holding a candle to this one.

He still didn’t know why he was so hungry, but the leading theory so far was that it was because he felt more relaxed than usual- at last he didn’t have to constantly wait and fear the nightmares, always glancing over his shoulder, because they appeared to be back. As he suspected, it had been a really bad one, a nightmare he hadn’t had in nearly two years, but he was just glad to be rid of the paranoia.

“How do you like them, Virgil?” Patton asked with a smile and Virgil blinked at him in surprise, swallowing a bite of his fourth quesadilla before he answered.

“They’re, um, really good.”

“I’m glad you like them. I-“

The doorbell rang and Virgil tensed up, putting the quesadilla down. Patton and Logan exchanged glances- were they expecting someone?- and Logan stood up. “I’ll see who it is.”

After a glance through the spyhole, Logan unlocked the doors and opened them to reveal the older woman from the garden; this time she was dressed in a purple dress with silver detail, but she wore the same pristine white gloves.

“Logan. Patton.” She nodded at both of them, not a trace of that cheery, easy-going attitude about her that Virgil noticed last time. “I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but I have information that couldn’t wait.”

Patton stood up, wiping his hands on a napkin swiftly before he circled around the table. “Yes, of course. Please, Inge, come in. Can I get you some coffee?”

“That would be wonderful; Morgana knows I haven’t had enough caffeine. And who is this?” _Oh no,_ Virgil thought when her sharp eyes settled on him.

“Inge, this is Virgil, our ward. Virgil, meet Inge Latimer, Roman’s grandmother.”

Virgil was afraid she would try to shake his hand, or god forbid hug him, but she only inclined her head in greeting. “A pleasure to meet you, Virgil. The boys are treating you well, I take it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Virgil answered quickly, desperately wanting to shove his hands in his pockets, but he wasn’t sure if that was appropriate. For whatever reason, he felt like he was standing in front of the principal of a school he didn’t even attend, unsure why he was called there but very aware that he was in front of someone important and he shouldn’t fudge it up.

“Excellent. And call me Inge or Miss Inge, ma’am just makes me feel old.” Inge said, moving to sit in the living room. “And how are your studies going?”

Virgil had no idea what to reply to that- he was homeschooled since fourth grade, but Margaret was often busy and he ended up studying alone most of the time, concentrating only on things that interested him, which meant his grades at the official end-of-the-year exams were barely passable when it came to all but a few subjects.

“We still haven’t discussed his education.” Patton quickly jumped in, hurrying into the living room with a pretty porcelain cup in his hands.

“You haven’t? It’s nearly the end of October, school is starting soon.” Inge scolded; Virgil furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. What did she mean by that? School had already started over a month ago, though Virgil was barely involved in it at the moment- he hadn’t picked a textbook up since the last family left him back at the orphanage.

“Patton thinks we should put off talking to Virgil about it- about everything-, but I agree that it’s best to get over with it.” Logan said, sitting down with his own cup of what was probably tea in hands.

“Wait, you still haven’t told the boy _anything?_ For Morgana’s sake, Sanders, what are you waiting for?” Though she said only Sanders, it was clear she was talking to Patton, who hunched his shoulders like a scolded puppy.

“Can we not talk about this right now, please?” Patton pleaded, an upset look on his face. “You said there was something important, right, Inge? What is it?”

“Right.” She looked at Virgil again, though he wished she hadn’t- her eyes weren’t evil, but they were very sharp, and at the moment not very pleasant. “This is not something a child should hear, no matter what they do or don’t know. Do you mind excusing us, Virgil?”

That was a very civilized and subtle way to tell him to get his butt out of there, Virgil thought as he stood up. “Not at all. I’ll be in my room.”

“I hope to see again soon, Virgil.” Inge said, but Virgil felt like that wasn’t aimed at him though the old woman was looking at him, and Patton seemed to think the same because he tensed further.

“Goodbye, ma’- Miss Inge.” Virgil said and slid to his room, closing the door behind him before he went to fall on the bed. Previously he thought that it was only Patton and Logan who were strange, but then there was Roman, and now Inge. Questions only kept piling as weirdness increased, and Virgil wondered how long it would be before he got some clear answers.

What was it that Logan and Patton- especially Patton, it seemed- were so desperate to keep from him? They definitely weren’t psychopaths, that much he was sure of, and he couldn’t see them being any kind of bad people, but there were so many inexplicable things surrounding them that Virgil had no insight into.

Is that what they argued about- whether or not to share the keys to the mystery with Virgil? Patton looked truly upset at the thought of Virgil finding out whatever that grand secret was, but Logan seemed like he hoped that Inge’s words would convince him to do it anyway.

Maybe he could just... listen to a bit of the conversation. Eavesdropping wasn’t nice, but he wasn’t an ignorant, soft child and what ‘grown-up’s considered to be too much for him were usually things that weren’t even remotely distressing. Maybe he would find out what was being kept from him this way, and then he wouldn’t have to wait for Logan and Patton to argue it out.

He cracked the door open slightly, keeping his back to the wall so that if anyone saw the slightly ajar door they wouldn’t know he was there, and heard Inge’s voice first,”...not someone you should take so lightly, Patton. Lars is a very powerful wizard.”

“With all due respect, I think I know that better than anyone, Inge. He’s the reason I haven’t been able to use anything more than an Impression for the past decade.” The bitterness in Patton’s voice had Virgil blinking in surprise- he’d never heard him that way before.

“He might come after you.” Inge warned, her voice softening a bit despite the chilling words. “You almost managed to take over.”

“The key word being _almost_. I’m not a threat to him anymore, not the way I am now, and he knows it. If he really did get out of prison and is running around free, he’ll either go somewhere where you won’t be able to hunt him or he’ll try to take over where he stopped last time. I recommend you tell the Council to explore those possibilities and to not waste their time on me.”

“What about that trail you were following a couple weeks ago? Is it connected?”

“It wasn’t anything much, just some angry toddler.” Patton answered, and Virgil wished he could open the door more to see what was going on, but he didn’t want to risk being discovered.

“You said it was one of the darkest, most powerful sources of energy you’ve sensed in years!” Inge insisted, voice suddenly very annoyed. “How could it just be some toddler?!”

“I miscalculated.” Patton shot back. “It happens.”

“You’ve never been that wrong before, Patton- you were a valued part of the MHA, the youngest one to ever-“

“Well, I’m not anymore, am I?” Patton interrupted, and Virgil could feel the tension from where he stood, barely breathing. “I’m not that great, talented kid you knew before, Inge- if you asked me to, I couldn’t pass the third grade of the Academy right now as I am-, so yes, I make mistakes. You’ll just have to deal with it.”

“I think we should end the conversation here.” Logan said, and Virgil almost breathed out in relief that he got involved; Virgil was afraid Inge and Patton might start shouting at each other at any moment, though neither had seem quite so temperamental before. “We’re grateful for informing us of Lars’s escape, Inge, and we’ll make sure to look out though I too doubt he will be interested in us. I’ll see you at the Academy on Monday.”

“Always the one with the cool head, Logan.” Inge said, and Virgil could almost tell from her tone that she was trying to pull herself together. “Well, you’re right. I apologize if I awoke bad memories, I'm merely worried for you.”

“No, I-I’m sorry.” Patton replied with a sigh, and Virgil imagined that he was passing his hand through his hair like when he was stressed. “I know you mean well.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing you at the Academy as well, Logan, and I’ll keep you both updated on the matter. Goodbye, boys.”

They both said their goodbyes and Virgil used the opportunity while they walked Inge out to close the door quietly. He leaned his back on it and breathed in, then out, trying to gather his thoughts because what in the ever-burning _hell_ had just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens~


	7. The Balcony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I still haven't studied, but the Sunday is young and there is time, right? :) It's I'm-a-senior-and-I-really-can't-bring-myself-to-care-about-education-anymore time!!! Anyway, that horror aside, I wish I could go play pianoooo but I don't have a pianooo at home and damn I'm not happy about that, and I haven't practiced in so long I'm kinda afraid I forgot everything lol. Oh, and I saw my bff yesterday after a few weeks and I had a super fun time, so that was nice.
> 
> My small rant is over so you can start reading the chapter now. I hope you like it :D Remember to take care of yourselves and drink water. Love, Kat x
> 
> P.S. Also, holy heck, over 500 hits in barely a week :O what what I'm speechless thank you <3

Monday came around uneventfully, unless you counted Patton’s constant insistence that Virgil at least _browse_ through the furniture website; he didn’t have to pick anything right away, Patton would argue, just think about it. But Virgil skillfully avoided it by ducking into his room any time that Patton started up that conversation- his room was neutral ground, and both Logan and Patton seemed set on not coming in unless Virgil let them.

He knew that he would have to give in at some point; Patton was letting him off the hook for now, but Virgil imagined that that wouldn’t last. The thing was, he didn’t need a desk or a lamp or a bookshelf of his own or whatever else Patton had in mind. Clothes, yes, he couldn’t really get around without them, but he was fine with just a bed and a closet. Sure, the room looked a little empty (well, very empty- it was a pretty spacious room), but that was only aesthetics and they didn’t really matter.

And he could read Patton a bit by now, when it came to things like that- Virgil would choose a couple pieces of furniture and the next thing he knows, he’ll be picking the paint for the walls and decorations and God knows what else, and he was set on wasting as little money as possible.

Virgil stretched his arms before he sat up on the bed, covering his mouth with his hand as he yawned. _Another_ night without a nightmare. After that Saturday afternoon, he was back to forgetting his dreams as soon as he woke up as if he didn’t dream anything at all (which he knew was impossible- everyone who slept for more than an hour and a half would dream at least _something_ ), and not being able to figure out _why_ was nearly driving him mad.

The last thing he wanted was to make this into a thing- sleeping far too well for a few days, then having a vicious nightmare, and repeat. Shaking his head at the whole situation, he put on the ridiculous fluffy white slippers Patton had given him at some point and padded to the bathroom.

His hair was getting in his eyes, Virgil noted disinterestedly as he looked at himself in the mirror; he’s probably going to have to cut it soon. Its unevenness was showing, but it was far better than when he first gave himself a haircut at nine- he got better at cutting it every time and soon, maybe in a few years, it might even look normal.

Another yawn escaped him as he hung the towel back on the hook on the door, having dried his face after washing it, and he stretched again as he went back to his room to dress. Not feeling like wearing color today, he put on a simple black shirt and black jeans with some black socks. He started to reach for where his hoodie usually sat, hung at the foot of the bed, before he remembered that it was undergoing the laundry process.

Virgil opened the right wing of the closet and watched the purple-patched hoodie for a moment, assessing it in all its glory, and hesitantly removed it from the hanger and put it on for the first time.

To say that it felt nice was a huge understatement. The sleeves were too long for him, but that was perfect- he could roll them up a bit when he did things, and he could unroll them when he wanted to hide his hands-, and much more comfortable than the too-short ones on his regular hoodie that only got shorter each year as Virgil’s arms grew.

And the size of it was _wonderful._ It reached the middle of his thighs and the hood was so big that it covered his eyes completely even without him ducking his head. Not to mention the overall construction of it, with the insides soft but the hoodie still heavy enough that it was comforting.

Putting the hands in the pockets- they were a bit silkier than the lining, but still soft-, Virgil left the room, humming lowly under his breath. According to Patton, they were having French toast for breakfast, and Virgil couldn’t wait- these days he felt really hungry all the time, and he was glad that Patton made so much food that he never had to ask for more.

“Patton?” Virgil called out, stepping into the living room and looking around. He didn’t smell anything cooking like he did every morning, but maybe Patton closed himself in the kitchen. “Patton?” Virgil repeated, cracking open the kitchen door, but it was empty; the counters were pristine and clean, not a sign of the usual mess that followed Patton’s passionate meal preparation.

The only signs that anyone had used it since last night were the empty teacup and plate in the sink, probably left there from Logan’s early breakfast. Virgil looked around once more, even opening the pantry to check that Patton wasn’t trying to surprise him, though jumpscares weren’t his style- he was aware of Virgil’s anxiety though they never spoke of it, and he always made sure to announce his presence when he thought Virgil might not have noticed him.

Was he still asleep, by any chance? Patton was always already up when Virgil crawled out of his room, busying himself with one thing or another, so it would’ve been unusual, but people did oversleep sometimes, even early birds like Patton. At least Virgil thought the possibility existed.

He checked that there was no note on the dining table saying that Patton had gone to the store and would be back soon, though if there was he would’ve already seen the brightly colored square of paper, before he unwittingly walked down the hall and hesitantly knocked on their bedroom door.

“Patton? Are you there?” Virgil called out, but his only answer was the silence. It was starting to unnerve him and he shivered a bit, feeling a bit like something was about to jump out at him at any second; that was unlikely, of course, given that it was broad daylight, but that fact didn’t ease the tightness in his gut. He knocked again, louder this time, and shouted. “Patton?”

What if he was unwell and couldn’t answer? What if he was _dying?_ Virgil knocked until his knuckles started to hurt, until he finally cracked open the door, driven by growing fear that something was very, very wrong.

The bedroom was pretty simple and smaller than Virgil assumed it would be. A king-sized bed with a knitted, dark blue cover neatly put over it took the most space; there was a bedside table on each side, and Virgil could easily tell which was whose- Logan’s side only had a couple books and a glasses case on it, while Patton’s was far messier, books unordered and with silly framed dog pictures on it. The walls were painted a pale blue color, and the leftover space was taken by a closet, only slightly bigger than the one in Virgil’s room.

And it was empty. Virgil stepped on the soft blue carpet, once again looking around though there were virtually no places to hide save the closet, before he went out and closed the door. He tried Logan’s office next, but got the same results. In the end he reluctantly approached the white door, knocking only once before pressing the doorknob.

Locked. Brows furrowed, Virgil tried again, thinking that maybe the door was stuck, but it didn’t budge. That was... interesting. All the other doors in the apartment were available to him, but it seemed that even Logan and Patton had something they didn’t want Virgil to see, just like all the other people.

“Patton?” Virgil called out once and moved away when he got no response- something about that room gave him the chills, making the hairs on his arms stand up like he was out in the cold. It wasn’t a _bad_ feeling, per se, or a good one, but it was definitely uncomfortable in a way that Virgil couldn’t exactly explain.

Maybe Patton just went to the store, after all, and forgot to leave a note. Yeah, that was probably it. Virgil was overreacting, and at any moment Patton would walk through the front door, cotton bags he used for food shopping hung over his shoulder.

Still, Virgil couldn’t manage to convince himself; that dread still worked through him, urging him to do something, to _act._ Thinking that the fresh air might help him calm down a bit so he could think more clearly, he started for the balcony, zipping his hoodie in expectancy of the cold morning breeze.

And there was Patton, lying on the floor, unmoving. Virgil froze for a moment, swaying like a flower in the wind, before he snapped out of his shock and jumped forward. His fingers flew to Patton’s neck, fearing the worst, but the weak pulse told Virgil he was alive.

Sighing in relief, Virgil crouched down and tried to lift Patton, but it was to no avail- Patton wasn’t exactly a small person, and Virgil was no Olympic contestant when it came to strength. Giving up on that, Virgil mentally apologized to the unconscious man and lifted Patton’s arms, dragging him inside from the cold, avoiding hurting him to the best of his abilities.

Letting him down once Patton was on the warm living room carpet, Virgil quickly closed the balcony doors and once again crouched by Patton, digging through his pockets until he found his phone.

“Come on, come on...” Virgil whispered, all but praying as the line rang, biting his thumb nail as he tried to ward off the panic attack. When the ringing stopped and the phone told him whoever he was calling was currently unavailable, Virgil’s heart flipped in his chest and with trembling hands he clicked on _Honey_ again, but when the same thing happened Virgil was made to accept that whatever Logan was doing, he wasn’t going to answer.

He tried _911_ next, but the line didn’t ring even twice before it died. Furrowing his eyebrows, Virgil tried again. Nothing. Wasn’t someone always supposed to be available at the _emergency_ line? What was going on? Maybe it was the phone? Virgil ran over the house phone, hoping to get better results, but the stupid machine wasn’t even working- Patton had warned him before that it was temperamental, but why now of all times?

Left with no other choice, Virgil unlocked the door and ran into the hall to the doors opposite them, knocking heavily, “Hello? Is anyone there? It’s an emergency!”

When not even an echo of the sound was heard from behind the door, Virgil whined in frustration and ran down the stairs to the next home, knocking even harder this time, so hard his barely healed palms ached, “Open up, please! I need help! It’s an emergency!”

This time the door swung open and Virgil felt his eyes tearing in relief, but then he blinked in surprise when he saw it was Roman, dressed in red pyjamas with pumpkins and witch hats on them, usually nicely combed hair disheveled from sleep.

“Virgil? What are you doing here?” Roman asked through a yawn, sleepy eyes filling with worry when he got a closer look at Virgil, “Are you okay? You don’t look so well.”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, but Patton isn’t! He collapsed on the balcony and I can’t get a hold of-“Virgil started, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“Roman? What’s with the commotion so early in the morning?” Inge’s strict voice called out from a distance. “Are you trying to levitate the plants again, because I told you already-“

“It’s Virgil, grandma! He said something happened to Mr. Sanders!” Roman answered so loudly that Virgil involuntarily flinched, “It sounds serious!”

It was quiet for a moment and then Inge came out, tying a ridiculously fluffy robe around her. Virgil didn’t have time to feel awkward about it, though, because panic kept building up in his chest, and he had trouble breathing.

“What happened?” she asked, eyes so somber that Virgil completely forgot she was dressed like an elderly woman at a spa. Virgil took a deep breath, but before he could start ranting she sharply interrupted. “Short, sensible sentences, please.”

“I-I woke up, and Patton wasn’t around, so I looked for him, and I found him lying on the balcony, and he’s breathing but he’s unconscious, and I can’t reach Logan because he’s at work, and-“

“Is he hurt?” Inge interrupted again, voice urgent “As in, is there blood?”

“I- I don’t think so.” Virgil answered, unsure “I didn’t get to check-“

“Not Lars then.” She murmured under her breath, so quietly Virgil barely heard it; her voice was back to normal volume when she said, “Come on. Roman, you’re either inside or outside, choose one.”

Nodding, Roman moved aside and let Inge pass, getting out himself before closing the doors. Virgil led the way, climbing stairs quickly, only thinking that he should have perhaps slowed down for Inge when he got to the third floor. She was, however, right behind him, and he hurried again and opened the door to show her where Patton was.

He still lay where Virgil had left him, the same unnatural paleness to his face. Virgil kept his distance as Inge went and crouched beside Patton, examining him. His fingers flew back to his mouth and he started biting again, trying to distract himself so he didn’t think about how his lungs lacked oxygen.

After far too many moments of tense silence in which Virgil had thoroughly ruined four of his nails, Inge finally said, “He’s going to be alright.”

“What happened?” Virgil asked, not fully convinced by that vague statement though Inge sounded sure. “Is he- is he sick or something?”

“No. However, he seems to have used up too much of his energy without taking the time to rejuvenate, which is very irresponsible.” Inge added strictly, standing up to put her hands on her hips, once more resembling a principal despite her attire.

“I- I don’t understand. What does that mean?” Virgil shifted on his feet under Inge’s gaze, but didn’t stand down. “Is he really going to be okay?”

Inge’s gaze softened a bit at the question and she went to pat Virgil on the shoulder before she retreated her hand. “Yes, he will. He just needs plenty of rest and one of Logan’s potions. Come on, help me get him up on the couch- I can’t imagine the floor is very comfortable.”

Virgil did as he was told, though something told him that Inge was more than capable of doing it herself and only involved him to keep him busy; she was a lot stronger than she looked and took most of Patton’s weight, but Virgil thought it nice that she at least tried to make his feel useful.

“There. I have to head to the Academy now or I’ll be late, but I’ll notify Logan of what happened and let him off early.” Inge said, glancing at a watch on her wrist before she raised her head again to look at Virgil again. “Don’t worry, Virgil, he really will be alright. I promise.”

Virgil wanted to protest when she started for the door- what if something happened to Patton? What if his state got worse? Virgil wasn’t anywhere near equipped to help-, but he swallowed the words and only said, “Thank you, Miss.”

“You’re welcome.” Inge answered, placing her hand on Roman’s shoulder; the boy was so quiet, a worried look on his face, that Virgil had forgotten he was there. “Let’s go Roman, there’s plenty of things to do today.”

Virgil walked them out of the door and walked back to Patton as soon as the locks clicked, checking that he was still breathing. Not wanting to trespass into their bedroom again, Virgil took his blanket and put it over Patton, making sure that it stayed in place. Then he took a book and curled into the armchair closest to Patton, settling in to wait for Logan.

***

Virgil jumped when the front door opened, nearly dropping his book in surprise. He watched in silence as Logan quickly took off his slick black shoes and rid himself of his coat, practically throwing his bag on the dining table as he rushed over.

“Do you-“

“I know what happened.” Logan interrupted him, hands passing over Patton’s face with such gentleness and tender care that Virgil felt like he was intruding on a personal moment. Without looking at Virgil, Logan said, “I’m sorry if he scared you.”

“It’s fine.” Virgil murmured, hugging the book to his chest.

“No, it’s not.” Logan parried, voice suddenly cold though his hands remained soft as they examined Patton, and Virgil shrank back a little, unsure who Logan’s tone was aimed at. “But it won’t happen again.”

“Okay?” Virgil’s voice was even quieter this time; he didn’t really know if he was supposed to say anything to that or not. “Should I- do you want some tea?”

“No, thank you, but a cup of black coffee would be wonderful. If you don’t mind.”

Well, that was different, Virgil thought as he went to the kitchen and started up the kettle. Logan hadn’t drunk anything stronger than a mild tea in the week Virgil had known him, always opting for a herbal mix when Patton had his morning coffee. But a week was a very short amount of time, and the circumstances were odd, or so Virgil gathered- he imagined that Patton wasn’t collapsing every other week.

Mixing the boiled water with a teaspoon of coffee that he found neatly labeled in the cupboard, Virgil picked up the cup and the saucer, starting back for the living room.

“Oh, you stubborn idiot.” Virgil heard Logan murmuring, saw the older man’s hand petting Patton’s hair from where he half-sat on the armrest; now Virgil was _definitely_ intruding. Should he go back or announce his presence to Logan? He couldn’t just stand there forever and listen to a private conversation- or, well, a monologue, considering that Patton wasn’t awake.

Logan made the decision for Virgil when he looked his way; pretending like he’d heard nothing, Virgil walked over and handed Logan his coffee, watching with slightly raised eyebrows as the older man downed it in two gulps like it was water.

“Thank you, Virgil.” Logan said, setting the cup on the small table by the couch. “Could you please- hey.”

Patton’s eyes fluttered open and he reached out, a small smile on his face as he weakly murmured. “Hello.”

Logan caught Patton’s hand, intertwining their fingers even as he strictly said, “We have to talk, Patton.”

“Huh? Yeah, sure, but, why are you... why am I on the couch?” A confused look on his face, Patton sat up, his hand coming to rest on his temple. “Did I finish watering the plants? I have to go make breakfast...”

“It’s nearly lunch time now.” Logan said evenly, tapping his fingers on his thigh.

Patton let go of Logan’s hand to massage both sides of his head. “What do you mean it’s _lunch time?_ Morgana, my head.”

“You should lie down.” Virgil said quietly, picking at his bitten nails. “Miss Inge said you should rest.”

“Virgil, you’re awake already? I’m fine, I don’t need rest. I want to know what’s going on, if someone will explain properly.” Patton retorted, looking pointedly at Logan.

“You want to know what’s going on? Wonderful. I’ll tell you _exactly_ what happened, and what’s going to happen now.” Logan started as he went to sit on the other couch, voice shimmering with suppressed anger; when he straightened in his suit and fixed his glasses, he looked like a stock picture of an annoyed professor. “You’ve been overusing your magic for days now, you’ve refused the potions I’ve offered you on several occasions, you wouldn’t take breaks from your work though I told you that would have negative consequences, and due to all those things I’ve mentioned and more you’ve gotten to the point where you were so exhausted your body simply shut down.”

“Logan, you can’t just-“ Patton stammered, eyes wide, but Logan interrupted him mercilessly.

“I wasn’t finished. You’ve been ignoring what I’ve been saying for nearly a week, so you’ll keep quiet now and listen. Virgil found you unconscious like that on the balcony and though I can’t say for certain what kind of effect that had since I’m not a psychologist, I can use common sense to deduct that it wasn’t pleasant.

“He couldn’t reach me because I was in class, so I had to hear about it from Inge when she summoned me to her office, and I had to leave early because you scared me half to death; as a result, the fine graduates of the Academy will be forced to learn one of the most important lessons by themselves.”

“Look, I’m sorry about your class, and I’m so, so sorry that you had to go through that.” Patton said apologetically, briefly glancing at Virgil as he said the second part before he went back to pleadingly staring at Logan. “But please don’t do this. I just need a bit more time, it’s only been a few days, he’s not ready to know-“

“ _You’re_ the one not ready, dear.” Logan said, voice softening for the first time since he started his speech. “I can’t- I _won’t_ let things go on as they are right now. Virgil deserves to know and to decide on his own how to proceed. In addition to that, we can’t keep dragging things on forever; whatever his reaction, we’ll deal with it.”

“I deserve to know _what?”_ Virgil asked, his voice high even to his own ears. His head was in complete shambles as he looked from Patton to Logan, trying to make some sense of the situation; his fingers worked themselves into a frenzy, and he felt a sharp end of his broken nail drawing blood when he scratched himself accidentally, but he couldn’t really feel it.

“Logan, _please_ -“

“He’s waited twelve years, Patton.” Logan said with finality and turned to Virgil. “Sit down, Virgil, this might be a long conversation and you’ve already had an eventful morning. Good.” Logan nodded when Virgil all but fell into the armchair, his legs too weak to hold him anymore. “Now, let’s talk about magic.”


	8. The Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry I've been away for so long, this has just been a really slow chapter and I had to completely rewrite it twice for me to actually be somewhat satisfied with it, and then edit it into something readable etc etc etc. I definitely won't update next week (at least not until the weekend) because school (ugh).
> 
> Anyway, hope you're all safe and hydrated and that you enjoy this chapter! And thank you, as always, for the support and the feedback, it makes me so happy and reminds me people actually do appreciate my writing to a degree, which is wonderful. Love, Kat x

“Magic?” Virgil stared at Logan, his fingers momentarily pausing their shuffling. If someone had asked him to make a list of top ten sentences he never expected Logan to say, _let’s talk about magic_ probably would’ve made the cut. “What do you mean by _magic,_ exactly?”

“Magic, the art of producing a desired effect or result through the use of incantations or other techniques.” Logan explained in matter-of-fact, professor-y voice, like he was defining a cell or an atom, and not magic. _Magic,_ for Christ’s sake. It was something sold to children as a possibility so they wouldn’t think that dull, plain reality they lived in was all that life had to offer, not an actual thing that existed.

“So what, there are wizards and witches out there?” Virgil asked half-jokingly, waiting for someone to laugh him off and for Patton to tell him that this was all just a jest. “Like in _Harry Potter_ or something?”

“Yes, of course wizards and witches exist.” Logan answered, his serious face scrunching up a bit in confusion. “I, however, don’t know who Harry Potter is. Are you already acquainted with a magic user?”

“No, no, it’s that movie that was on a couple months back, remember?” Patton interjected, sparing Virgil from having to explain what he assumed everyone was already familiar with. “The one I made you watch that ‘completely inaccurately’ presented the magic world?”

“Ah, yes. The one with the _wands.”_ Logan said, emphasizing ‘wands’ like it was the most ridiculously disgusting thing he’d ever come across. “Whoever made that story needs to find more reliable sources because that wand shenanigan is _bizarre._ What do they think, that we go around breaking branches off of trees and swinging them until something happens?”

“It’s not made to be accurate, honey.” Patton said, the bruises under his eyes losing in intensity as he smiled a tired smile. “It’s supposed to be fun and entertaining.”

“There’s nothing _fun_ about inaccuracy.” Logan replied, fixing his glasses as he looked back at Virgil. “Anyway, no, magic doesn’t work like in that absurd production. In the real world, wizards and witches are individuals who possess something that we refer to as _Arbor Alba,_ a source of magical energy that allows us to cast spells- spoken and unspoken, depending on your skill level-, brew potions and perform other forms of magic.”

“But magic _isn’t real.”_ Virgil said slowly, like he was talking to a confused child. “It just isn’t. Well, at least not since science became a widely-accepted thing.”

“Science and magic don’t necessarily exclude each other.” Patton argued, twirling an edge of Virgil’s blanket between his fingers. “I mean, there are so many things in science that are kind of magic, aren’t there? Things that you take for granted just because they have rules. You can think of magic as kind of an... extension to science- it also has rules, they just contradict the borders science put up.

“Like this, for example.” Patton raised his hand and swished it through the air like a conductor of an orchestra; eyes wide with disbelief, Virgil watched as bright purple letters appeared in the air, ordering themselves into his name. “Science would say it’s impossible to make illusions appear ‘out of thin air’, but magic considers it child’s play.”

Virgil started to reach forward, mesmerized, but pulled away at the last moment. Patton looked at him knowingly and let his hand drop; the letters disappeared. “Believe me, I get it. I had a similar reaction to yours when I found out, because it’s all kind of... insulting, isn’t it?”

“Insulting?” Virgil wouldn’t have used that word exactly, but he wasn’t really capable of thinking too deeply about what effect this discovery had on him; too many words were swirling around his head, too quickly for his to catch them, with _wow_ an overpowering one.

“Yeah. I thought at the time, if magic exists and the world really is a lot bigger than I thought it was, how come I still only got to see the horrible parts of it? Why didn’t magic fix everything? Why wasn’t my life much brighter and better?”

Virgil looked at Patton both cautiously and curiously, not saying anything for a moment. There was a time when Virgil believed in magic, in fairies and unicorns and dragons, when he would listen to the kindergarten teacher read them fairytales with awe and go home to look out the window for hours on end, day after day, hoping that maybe a magical creature would come by and offer him a hand and he would go on a fun adventure, far away from father and his fists.

He outgrew it by the time he started school, when it became obvious even to his ever-hopeful brain that there was no one coming to save him, when the beatings only grew in intensity and regularity. It seemed back then that there wasn’t much else to life than that predictable pain and fear.

“The real world isn’t fantasy.” Virgil finally finished Patton’s thought, once again resuming picking at his fingers.

“Yeah, unfortunately.” Patton agreed. “Magic can’t delete the ugliness and bad people, and our society has its faults and its fair share of evil, just like the ordinary society. Not to say that it’s all bad- far from it.” Patton quickly added. “There’s so much beauty and fun out there, and magic does add to it.”

“Okay, so... you two are wizards?” Virgil asked, though words felt foreign in his mouth- he wasn’t sure it would ever feel like a normal thing to ask anyone but a child on Halloween dressed in a cape and a witch hat.

“We are.” Logan confirmed; Virgil nodded, flexing his fingers as he tried to adjust to that. There were so many questions that came with that- what permitted them specifically to be able to do magic? Were their bodies different in some way to a normal person’s? Or was it their souls?

And how did that change the whole concept of souls? If magic existed, did that mean that some sort of an afterlife did too? Virgil had stopped believing in God long ago; he shook off what was taught to him since birth as soon as his fear of father turned into bubbling hate, and considered himself an atheist, but where did magic fit into all that?

Did it mean that some kind of God was out there? Or maybe there was a whole pantheon, like the Greeks believed? Or maybe there still wasn’t anything after death, and magic was just another strange aspect of life.

But those seemed like too complicated questions for him to ask, and too personal- he knew how much one’s religious beliefs could reveal about them, and he knew that however he turned it, his were forever connected to his father, and there was no part of him that wanted to start a conversation involving him right then.

“Okay...” Virgil murmured, buying himself time to settle on what he wanted to ask next; he finally decided on, “And you _are_ actually teachers, right? That wasn’t some kind of a farce to hide the truth?”

“Yup, though it’s only me that works with non-magical children.” Patton said, drawing the blanket closer as he shivered a bit; Virgil was sure that the older man was supposed to be resting, but he trusted that Logan would interfere when it was necessary and didn’t interrupt to voice his concerns. “Logan’s a professor at the Academy.”

“Miss Inge mentioned it before.” Virgil noted, “She said she had to go or she’d be late... Is she a teacher too?”

“She used to be, but currently she’s a principal.”

Virgil sniffed out a laugh at that- she was _actually_ a principal. He hadn’t expected to be right when he’d compared her to one, but it did make sense. “And the Academy is a school for magical kids, right? Like Hogwarts?”

Patton’s eyes that had softened at Virgil’s laugh now flashed with amusement. “Well, we don’t have a castle- unfortunately-, but yes, it’s a school for magic. No houses, either.” Patton said before Virgil had a chance to ask. “But we do have a ‘sorting system’ of our own. You’ll see.”

“I can see it?” Virgil asked, excited despite himself; the idea of being able to visit a place like that suppressed the remainder of his suspicion. Patton said it wasn’t a castle, but it must have been impressive no matter what it looked like; Virgil wondered if they had moving paintings, or moving staircases, or something completely different but equally magnificent. “They let normal people in there?”

“Not as a rule; to my knowledge, only four Ordinaries have stepped foot into the Academy over the past eight hundred and seventy three years that it has existed.” Logan said, taking off his sweater- he must have forgotten he had it on, though it was very warm inside the apartment.

Some of Virgil excitement deflated. “Only four?” If it was such a small number, what were the chances he would be allowed to go? He wasn’t very special at all- he didn’t warrant special treatment. “Never mind then.”

“It’s good that you brought it up, we actually meant to talk to you about that. And now that you finally know about magic, we can.” Logan said, giving Patton a pointed look before he turned back to Virgil. “The school year starts in two weeks, and I believe you’re more than capable of getting into the appropriate class for your age.”

“What do you mean appropriate class?” Virgil asked, “What do you mean _class_ at all? Didn’t you just say that it was only for magical kids? I’m _not_ magical.”

“Of course you are. Didn’t that go without saying?” Logan started to reach for his cup before he remembered it was empty. Instead of leaving it like Virgil expected, he swiped his hand over the top and lifted it to his lips, taking a sip; the fog of the hot beverage had his glasses clouding up. “You’re a wizard, Virgil. I thought you understood that already.”

“Okay, no.” Virgil negated, “I’m _not_ a wizard. I can’t do what you just did.” Saying that, he pointed at the cup in Logan’s hand. “I can’t make letters appear in the air either. I can’t make things fly or turn people into frogs or do whatever you magic people do.”

“You can’t break windows without touching them?” Patton asked quietly, eyes soft and sympathetic.

“I...” Virgil started, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn’t... or could he? But that meant... “Oh. It _was_ my fault.”

 _Everything_ was his fault. All those ‘incidents’, all those ‘bad things’, all that he blamed on the universe or his ‘curse’ was just him the whole time. There was no rotten luck, no galactic mishap, only him. Only Virgil.

He thought for so long that he was somehow responsible for things that always went wrong in his life, that he’d somehow caused the bad luck that followed him everywhere, and turns out he was more right than he thought. But now there was nothing else, no one else, to blame than himself.

“Don’t go there.” Patton’s voice full of warning snapped Virgil out of his spiraling thoughts. “None of what happened was your fault- you had no idea what you were doing and you couldn’t control your magic; you didn’t know how _not_ to do what you did.”

“Doesn’t matter. I still did it.” Virgil muttered, pulling his hands into his sleeves. “Nothing changes that.”

“What’s the most important factor in a crime?”

Virgil looked at Logan at the sudden question, confused- how was that relevant? “I don’t know. The murder weapon?”

“No. The correct answer is motive.” Logan said, taking more of his coffee. “Let’s take the incident in the orphanage as an example. _Why_ did you break that window, Virgil?”

“Because...” Virgil remembered the feeling of being cornered, the panic when that man reached for him, the overwhelming desire for him to go away. “I was scared, maybe?”

Logan nodded like he circled the right option on an exam question. “Exactly. You were afraid, and what happened next was a direct response to that fear. Your body is designed to protect you from what it perceives as danger, Virgil, and it uses any means necessary to do that- considering you are a wizard, one of those means is magic.”

Something about the sensible way Logan laid that out was calming, but Virgil still wasn’t comforted. “What about the other stuff, then? I wasn’t always in danger when bad things happened- like that time the garden wilted, or the fact that everyone always argues around me.

“You said, back in the orphanage, that you know people get divorced and that children cry all the time because of the curse- because of me.” Virgil said, looking at Patton. “What about that?”

“That’s a bit more complicated. Hm...” Patton paused, tapping his fingers on the couch. “You have a lot of bad memories, right? They cause a bunch of anxiety, and that anxiety makes you hyper-vigilant- that means that you’re very aware of your surroundings and what’s happening.

“That can be useful when something bad is happening, like when you’re running away from a bear for example, but it’s harmful when you’re in that state constantly. It takes a lot of energy and it means that your body and mind are always afraid, and that kind of negativity manifests in your aura being very negative.”

“My aura?”

“I mean, it’s not the official term, but it’s what I call it.” Patton said, smiling a little. “All negative auras have an impact on others- people can sense them even if they don’t realize it-, but since you have magic, it’s amplified. You shouldn’t blame yourself for that either, though- the people you affected still had a choice on how to handle it, and if they handled it badly, it’s on them. You didn’t create problems in their lives, you just... stopped them from avoiding them.”

Patton’s explanation made sense, but Virgil still felt guilty- all that misery he brought around with him can’t have been pleasant on the people who decided to foster him, and they didn’t deserve it.

“Did it... is that why you wanted to send me back?” Virgil blurted out before he managed to stop himself. “My bad aura?”

“What?” Patton asked, looking thoroughly confused, “We never wanted to send you back. Where did you get that?”

“You argued. A lot.” Virgil muttered, voice small- was he on the wrong track? “I thought- I thought it was because you wanted to send me back to the orphanage.”

“You’re mistaken.” Logan said at the same time as Patton sighed, “I was hoping you didn’t hear that.”

“So you _will_ send me back?” Virgil turned to Patton; his chest felt like it was collapsing. Why was he surprised? He knew that he would have to go back sooner or later.

But he couldn’t stay at the orphanage, not after what happened. Would he have to live on the streets from now on? The thought was terrifying- he’d never been truly on his own before, materially speaking-, but did he have a choice? The only other option was getting back into the system, and how could he, with what he knew now? He couldn’t subject good people like Logan and Patton to his destructive nature, and he couldn’t stay with bad people either- what if knowing he had magic made it even harder to control? What if he used it on purpose to hurt someone in the spur of the moment?

“No, no, of course not!” Patton denied. “We never even considered that- for as long as you want to stay with us, you’re welcome. We were arguing... about other things.”

Virgil didn’t feel relieved, only even guiltier. “But I caused that? Right?”

“In a way.” Logan confirmed, putting down the once-again empty cup. “But you weren’t at fault, Patton was.”

“You were _at fault_ too.” Patton muttered. “I didn’t argue with myself- you were the one who started the arguments, if you really want to nitpick.”

Logan threw him a look. “Do you truly want to have this debate right now? I’ll win.”

“Only because I’m weakened.” Patton grumbled childishly, then turned to Virgil. “I promise you the arguing had nothing to do with you- or, well, with your magic. I’m sorry you overheard it at all.”

“But it _did_ have to do with me.” Virgil insisted- he wasn’t about to allow Patton to let him off the hook so easily. “You didn’t deny that.”

“That’s... yes.” Patton sighed in defeat, then let out a weak chuckle. “I was just starting to think I could avoid that conversation for a bit longer, but... oh well. The truth is always the best answer, right?”

Virgil didn’t agree, and thought that statement almost naive- lying was often not only the fastest way to get yourself what you wanted, but (more importantly) the best way to protect yourself-, but he said nothing.

Patton inhaled sharply and looked at Logan. “Could you... can I talk to Virgil alone, honey?”

Logan didn’t seem surprised and rose with a nod. “Of course. I’ll be in my study if you need me.”

“Alright.” Patton waited until Logan disappeared and the door to his office clicked shut before he turned to Virgil again. “The arguments... they were about your nightmares.”

“My nightmares?” Virgil hadn’t expected that answer- they argued before he had the nightmare, and after, so it never crossed his mind it might be related.

“Yes. I, um... I’m the reason you haven’t been having them. Save for that one on Saturday.” Patton added, shrugging the blanket off so he could twist it around in his hands. “I was distracted, and I hadn’t expected you would fall asleep, so I didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“You what?” Virgil stared at him in astonishment. “How is that even possible?”

“My... magic specialty, so to say, are emotions. I can see them, feel them and, um... control them.”

Virgil shook his head, trying to clear it, but it was near impossible- his capacity for receiving ridiculous information was long-ago filled to the brim. “Wait, wait. Are you saying that you _controlled_ my head or something? What?”

“Not your head, exactly.” Patton said, sighing again. “I told you that everyone has an aura, right? It’s kind of an outward projection of you emotions, like... imagine you put a light bulb inside a glass that you colored lightly with black paint- some light would still seep through, right? Most people can only somewhat feel that light, but I can not only see and feel it, but I can reach into the glass and change the light bulb. Does that make sense?”

“Kind of?” Virgil understood the metaphor, but he couldn’t tell what Patton wanted to say, so he reiterated, “Not really.”

“I, figuratively speaking, control people’s hearts, not their heads- emotions _are_ a product of your head, according to science, but I don’t change anything physically... Sorry, it’s really hard to explain.” Patton chuckled sadly, raising his hand to massage his temple once again. “You probably don’t care about the specific process, anyway; the point is that I did something I shouldn’t have, without your permission... and I’m so sorry about that.”

“I...“ Virgil opened his mouth, closed them again without saying anything. He wasn’t sure _what_ he should say, really- that he was mad at Patton? That he knew that Patton was only trying to help? Because both of those statements were true, and it made him feel conflicted.

This was all too sudden. What Virgil needed was some alone time. Yes, that would help. He needed to go away for a bit and think about everything without Patton’s sad, nervous eyes on him.

“I’ll be in my room.” Virgil said and stood up ungracefully; he felt guilty when he saw Patton visibly deflate, but he had to get away- a part of him already forgave Patton, and even wondered if there was anything to forgive, but the rest of him needed to ponder the matter further.

“Okay.” Patton said quietly. “Just... I’m sorry.”

Virgil nodded awkwardly and went into his room, throwing himself on the bed and putting his headphones on, letting the music blast in his ears. A couple deep breaths calmed down his unsteady anxiety, and he stared at the ceiling.

He expected the anger to come first, and he prepared to deal with it, but it didn’t- he only felt tired and... relieved? Yeah, that was probably relief. This was all _beyond_ crazy, and so hard to believe, but he finally _knew._ Maybe not everything- there was without doubt a million things out of his reach-, but the main reason behind everything was revealed.

Magic. Magic was real. He whispered it, seeing how the words felt on his tongue- they were still odd, but didn’t sound like a lie anymore. Would there come a day when it would just feel like a given, like something completely normal? Probably. Humans were weird that way- sooner or later, they got used to just about everything.

He would get used to the school too, if he went. Did he want to? He couldn’t tell. Logan said he could get into the class ‘for his age’, but what did that mean? Did they start learning at 13? From what he gathered, magic was something natural, innate, so it was more likely most of them had been surrounded with it from birth, and gone to magic kindergartens and magic preschools- if they were a thing. He would be the odd duck out- he didn’t know _anything._

The only magic he’d ever done wasn’t on purpose, and it was destructive, which he couldn’t imagine any teacher supporting, magic or not. Logan said school started in two weeks- there was no way he would be able to learn everything the others knew in that time.

And they without a doubt had exams. Maybe even entrance exams? _Oh, God._ Exams were the worst for his anxiety- they were like prolonged torture that no good grade could make feel better.

But what if he didn’t go? Would they send him back to normal school? He doubted that they would let him continue doing nothing until a week before the end of year exams. The thought quickened his breathing- he couldn’t go back to being surrounded by normal kids.

Bad stuff didn’t happen in school, or when it did it wasn’t anything major, but it didn’t need to for everyone to consider him weird- most schools were decent enough that no one picked on him outright about the hair in his eyes, or his hoodie, or his worn shoes, but he could tell when they talked about him and he heard their laughter as he passed.

School in general was like a room designed to trigger his anxiety and cause panic attacks- too many people, too much noise, too many expectations and too much pressure.

He just couldn’t go back, not when there was another option he hadn’t tried. Maybe he would be better at magic than he was at general schoolwork and he would make friends and he would hang around them and everyone would think he’s normal for once...

Sighing, Virgil pulled on his bangs, letting the slight pain ground him. Who was he kidding, anyway? He sucked at everything and he screwed everything up; even if someone thought he was normal for a hot five minutes, he would do or say something that’s too strange and they would go back to giving him side looks and making fun of him behind his back.

And there was no way he would ever make friends- who would want to talk to a freak like him? People made an impression in a snap of fingers, and the impression he made wasn’t good- he was too tall for his age and lanky, like a scarecrow, with hair too long and eyes a dark shade of brown that looked too big because of the bruises under them.

Ok, this was ridiculous, Virgil thought with a scoff. What was he, nine? Why was he pondering what hypothetical kids from a hypothetical school would think about him? A school he wasn’t even sure he wanted to go to and that he probably wouldn’t get into even if he decided on trying.

That’s not what he went to his room for. Concentrate, Virgil. Patton. He was trying to work out what he thought about what Patton did. Something in him told him he should rage, be furious about someone doing something like that to him without asking, but even the anger Virgil felt before was fading- he was never the one to hold onto grudges like that.

The truth was that he already forgave Patton. Maybe that wasn’t smart, and it meant he’d come to trust Patton more than he thought, but it was what it was. Patton’s face flashed in his head, his morose eyes, his apologetic expression, and Virgil rolled out of bed and stood up, stretching absently so his back cracked.

He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, and he didn’t know what to say to Patton, but it felt almost cruel to just let him think Virgil was mad at him when he wasn’t. Turning his music off and putting his headphones back on the bad, Virgil started for the door.

As soon as he cracked open the door, the sound of muffled sobbing got to his ears. Thinking that he must have misinterpreted it, he sneaked up to Logan’s office and peeked in; and really, Patton was sitting on the sofa by the wall, a troublingly big pile of scrunched up tissues next to him.

Logan was rubbing his back from where he perched up on the armrest, the same gentle look on his face that Virgil still had difficulty associating with his usually serious demeanor.

“I knew this would happen.” Patton said through the hiccups, voice odd and warped like he had been crying for a long time, though it can’t have been more than ten minutes. “He hates me, Logan. He’ll probably never forgive me, and he shouldn’t. I ruined everything, like I always do...”

“He doesn’t hate you.” Logan parried, continuing the steady motions with his hand. “And you haven’t ruined anything.”

Virgil didn’t hear what Patton said next- the older man mumbled it under his breath, tone grave-, but whatever it was had Logan straightening; the softness left his face and sharpness returned, evident in his tone when he spoke.

“ _Don’t_ say things like that. We knew when we took Virgil in that it wasn’t going to be easy, and you promised that if you thought like that-“

“I know, I know.” Patton muttered, brushing his hands over his face with a sigh. “I’m sorry- I’m fine. Just tired. It feels like someone is dragging my skin away from my bones, and I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Then don’t. Go to sleep.” Logan said, voice once again soft. “You’ve been awake for nights on end, keeping Virgil’s nightmares away and draining yourself, refusing my medicine- against my insistence.”

Patton chuckled a bit, closing his eyes as he leaned on Logan; Logan’s arm came around him, resting on his shoulders. “You know I can get a bit stubborn when I’m tired.”

“I know.” Logan said quietly, leaning down to kiss the top of Patton’s head. “Also, ‘a bit’ is a huge understatement.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Virgil moved away and leaned on the wall, tuning out the rest of the quiet conversation as he tried to come to grips with the new information. Of course, it made sense; if Virgil hadn’t been so preoccupied thinking about himself, it would’ve dawned on him earlier that Patton’s constant fatigue and his lack of nightmares were connected.

How long had Patton stayed awake, just so Virgil wouldn’t have to have his usual bad dreams? It didn’t lower Virgil’s anxiety about them, and objectively it couldn’t have gone on forever, but Virgil’s heart warmed at the attempt- when was the last time someone in his life cared so much about him that they would do something like that?

Never, probably.

Virgil padded back to the door of his room and closed them as loudly as he could, walking back towards the office so they could hear his steps. Patton was standing up and drying his tear-stained cheeks hastily with his sweater sleeve, a watery smile on his lips.

“Hey.” Virgil greeted, trying to pretend that he didn’t notice Patton’s puffy face.

“Hey, kiddo.” Patton greeted back, “Um... how are you?”

“Good. I just... I wanted to say thank you, for the nightmare thing.” Virgil stuffed his hands into his pockets, awkward despite his preparation for the talk. “It was... nice of you.”

“Oh.” Patton looked stunned, his arm frozen down halfway to his side. “You’re... welcome?”

Virgil nodded, then quickly added, “But don’t do it anymore.”

“I won’t!” Patton promised, a real smile beginning to form on his face. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, um... I’ll go read now.” Virgil went to move away, then popped back up. “And... you should get some rest.”

Not waiting for Patton’s reply, he ducked into his room.


	9. The Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays to those who celebrate them about now! I just so happen to update on Catholic Christmas, which I find funny, but oh well. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for waiting so long for me to update! I'd been swamped in high school stuff and finishing the semester, and even when it was all done I needed a few days to recuperate and get over the exhaustion in order to get the motivation and desire to write. I'm currently *kinda* panicking about uni stuff (being a senior is oof) but I'm actually doing something about it, and though most people in my life are like 'you should be happy about being in hs uni is so much harder', I honestly cannot wait to get out of this hell hole and actually do something I want with my life (in case anyone is curious, I'm going to pursue my love for languages and hopefully become a translator or something like that with a publishing house so I can pursue writing as well).
> 
> Anyway, hope y'all are doing well. Thank you for the continuous support and all the feedback you're giving me, and remember to take care of yourself (sleep, hydrate, get something to eat if you haven't already)! Love, Kat x
> 
> P.S. I just finished rewatching Yuri on Ice and y'all, I'm going to SCREAM that anime is so so so good I cannot-

“See? It looks perfect!”

“Yeah.”

Virgil glanced around his room, hands in his pockets, heart beating in excitement that he tried not to show. The walls were freshly painted a deep purple, and though he slept in the living room last night so the smell would air out, it still lingered in the air.

Virgil didn’t mind that- quite the opposite, he found a certain enjoyment in it. The smell of fresh paint reminded him of Logan and Patton, of their incessant need to make him comfortable, to give him what he wanted to have but often didn’t dare ask for.

He finally gave in to Patton- it only felt fair to let him have this after the nightmare debacle, though Patton never found out Virgil heard his and Logan’s conversation. First thing Patton wanted to do was paint his walls, and he insisted that Virgil choose the color, though Virgil said it was whatever; after some inner debate and hesitation, Virgil decided on the pretty purple one, which was approved without question.

He also chose a desk and a shelf, as well as an armchair, though he had no idea what he would do with one- he liked it on the website and Patton immediately marked it for check out, despite Virgil’s protests. It looked soft in the picture and it was even softer in person, with a stable back and nice armrests, a picture perfect place for Virgil to curl up in and read.

It was hard to remember when he last asked for anything- he was too afraid to be a burden, too afraid that saying he wanted anything was a vulnerability that could be used against him, too afraid to let anyone have the power to say no to his requests. Perhaps it was the MP3, or the headphones, but he hadn’t asked for either- it was Margaret who gifted them to him for his birthday-, so he wasn’t sure if that counted.

He looked at Patton, a wave of affection swamping him as he watched the older man mutter to himself as he tried to clean his ever-smudged glasses on the edge of the sweater. A part of him wanted to go over and hug Patton, but he restrained himself- just because he started to care for him (that much Virgil had, with hardship, admitted to himself) didn’t mean that he was a touchy-feely person.

The bell rang and Virgil flinched, his thoughts abruptly interrupted; he spun around to look in the direction of the front door.

“Those must be the Heralds.” Patton said, giving Virgil a reassuring look and a soft smile. “They’re here to help me move the furniture- getting the bed in without Logan would be a bit tricky without an additional set of hands or two.”

Virgil knew there would be people coming to help- Patton told him that yesterday, so that Virgil wouldn’t be surprised-, but the thought of having to be around people he didn’t know and to, God forbid, chat with them, still wasn’t very pleasant. And he knew he would have to talk to them because they were neighbors, and because Logan and Patton seemed to like them a lot, and he couldn’t very well ignore them and hide under the sofa like his anxiety wanted him to.

“Speaking of Logan.” Patton continued, putting his glasses back on and smoothing down his sweater that had creased in the front, “He’s coming by to get the scarf he forgot this morning and a couple other things, so if someone were to go down and give them to him so he doesn’t have to waste time coming up... That would be much appreciated.”

Virgil shot him a grateful look as Patton moved to the front door and unlocked it. “I could do that.”

“Awesome. Hi!” Patton took a few steps back to let the two people in, his voice switching from its usual softness and cheeriness to maximum bubbliness. “Virgil, meet Sarah and Max Herald.”

“Oh. My. God. Aren’t you just the most adorable thing ever!” Sarah said excitedly, her energy almost physically sweeping Virgil back; she clapped her hands several times, reminding Virgil of a particularly happy seal dressed in plaid. “It’s _so_ nice to meet you! This is Max, my partner- don’t mind them, they’re just a bit shy. Max, isn’t Virgil just the most adorable?!”

“Hey.” Max said, their voice as down to earth as Sarah’s was energetic. Their clothes were calmer, too, all black with a hoodie on top as opposed to Sarah’s abundance of color and pattern.

“Hello.” Virgil said, shifting on his feet. It felt like he should say something else, so he added, “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Oh, we’re gonna have so much fun! I can’t wait to hear all about you! What do you like to read? I heard you like to read, just like Logan and Patton- isn’t that a wonderful coincidence? I don’t really read much, except some comics sometimes, but books are really amazing, I hear. What classes will you take? I heard you still aren’t enrolled in the Academy, but you’ll definitely enroll, right? The Academy is _great_ , so many subjects to choose from! I-“

“Sarah. Breathe.” Max interrupted evenly, like they’d done it many times before, and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we should let Virgil decide what he wants to talk about, yeah?”

“Oh, of course!” Sarah said quickly, clapping her hands again. “Sorry, I just get so carried away sometimes, when I’m excited. And I’m so excited to see you! I’ve heard so, so many good things about you.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone the chat- Virgil has to go help Lo with some really important things.” Patton said, easing the panic climbing up Virgil’s throat. “Which he should probably go do now- you know how Logan is with his time schedules.”

“Awe, that’s a shame.” Sarah looked deflated for a moment, but then she popped right back up. “But that’s fine! There’s plenty of time! Ok then, Patty- where’s that furniture you need our help with?”

“Just over there, but please, help yourself to some hot cocoa before you start while I walk Virgil out.” Patton said, gesturing to the kitchen doors. “It’s just on the stove.”

“Patty’s hot cocoa! Don’t mind if I do!” Sarah said cheerily, waving at Virgil as she basically raced into the kitchen. “See you later, Virgil!”

“Wait, don’t take all of it!” Max nodded at Virgil, then trailed after Sarah. “Sarah, no!”

Patton took the bag leaned by the door and waited while Virgil pulled on his shoes and the jacket Patton had lent him; when Virgil was done, they exited and Patton closed the front door.

“Sorry if you were overwhelmed- I should’ve warned you about Sarah.” Patton said, handing Virgil the bag. “She means the best, I promise.”

While Virgil _was_ overwhelmed, he didn’t doubt Patton’s words- while her words were unfiltered and she seemed too energetic for a human being to be in real life, Virgil got the feeling that she was genuine. A woman fostered him once who also had a tendency to speak cheerily, but her words always held a certain menace to them that Virgil could sense, no matter how much she tried to act like she was good; there was none of that ugly discomfort with Sarah, who resembled a happy child more than a bad-meaning adult.

“They were nice.” Was what Virgil ended up saying, swaying the bag back and forth so it swished past his leg.

Patton looked at him for a moment like he was trying to decide if Virgil really meant that- maybe he _was_ doing that-, and then a grin brightened his face. “I’m glad you liked them. I’ll go make sure they didn’t get into a fight over the cocoa, and you go give that to Logan- oh and, we won’t need your help, so if you want to take your time, feel free to.”

Without waiting for a response, Patton went back in and closed the door again. Virgil stood there for a few seconds, staring blankly, before he remembered what he was supposed to do; he bypassed the elevator that he wasn’t on very good terms with (it was way too cramped) and took the stairs instead.

Logan was waiting by the car, looking down at his watch, his fingers tapping on his thigh; the crease between his eyebrows showed he was annoyed. Virgil picked up his speed and waved his hand through the air hesitantly to get Logan’s attention.

“Virgil. You’re right on time.” Logan said, though he clearly thought differently- that crease was still there, though it had relaxed some. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Virgil said, letting go of his hold so Logan could take the bag.

“Well, then... How are you today?”

Virgil’s growing suspicion that this was orchestrated beforehand- Patton’s nonchalant offer, the bag ready by the door, Logan not telling him he was late-, got confirmed with Logan’s attempt at chit-chat when he was clearly already running late to wherever he was going.

“Great. And you?”

“Excellent.” Logan answered, the awkwardness slipping away as he nodded- Virgil almost smiled at that, but he tried to keep his face straight. “I’ll see you at lunch, Virgil.”

“Bye.”

Virgil waited for Logan to get into his car and drive away before he started back towards the building. Then he came to a halt.

He could look around, maybe... Patton said he could come back later, but did that mean he was allowed to go away from the building? They never discussed whether he was allowed to roam around outside, and if yes how far away, mostly because Virgil had never asked- he was perfectly content spending all his time in his room, enjoying the fact that he was left completely alone and unbothered.

He took a couple hesitant steps down the sidewalk, then stopped again. What if he _wasn’t_ allowed to go anywhere without their permission? Neither of them had gotten angry at him so far, and he was starting to think that they weren’t the types to get angry, but what if this crossed some boundary and he ruined the good going he had so far? He wasn’t sure how he would take being shouted at by Patton, or by Logan- definitely not well.

Sighing, he gave into the anxiety pulling him back and turned around, drowning his curiosity as he went back to the front door. He would just have to sit on the stairs and daydream the time away- why hadn’t he thought to bring a book with him? Or his headphones?

Muttering to himself, Virgil went to open the door, nearly running into it when it didn’t move. He tried the handle again, then remembered that he automatically closed the door when he went to Logan. How would he get in now? He could shout for Patton, but not only was that very embarrassing, it meant that he would have no way to escape again and would have to chitchat with the neighbors.

His hand flew to his mouth and he bit on his thumbnail, trying to calm down. He could go find a bench, somewhere, and sit there until Logan came back. But that would mean crossing that potential boundary, and he didn’t want to do that. Why did this happen? Why was he so stupid that he closed the door?

There was the possibility... What if he hadn’t been imagining it that night that Patton drove him here? Now that he knew about magic, it wasn’t a wild idea that the door was actually magicked, and Patton opened it using magic. Could he do that too? ...Probably not. But he could either try that, or sit in front of the building like a stray dog and risk a neighbor seeing him- he really didn’t like dealing with neighbors, never had, and having to explain what happened would be too embarrassing.

Hesitantly, Virgil knocked and turned the knob- nothing. Right, Patton had knocked twice that time. Virgil tried again, and this time the door opened easily under his hand, like it was inviting him in.

Once he closed it, he stood in the hall for a moment, staring at his hands like he was seeing them for the first time. They still looked like they always did, save for the new scars on his palms that were now almost completely healed.

It was probably because he was standing so still and quiet that he heard the sniffle. While he told himself that it was nothing, that it was just the building settling or whatever, Virgil still tensed up. After a second’s deliberation, he cautiously moved to where the sound had come from.

The one thing he didn’t expect to see was Roman, huddled in the shadow under the stairs, a hand over him mouth and his eyes wide and panicked. Virgil couldn’t tell if he was shivering or if the speed of his breathing made it seem so, but he could recognize a panic attack when he saw one.

“Roman. It’s me, Virgil.” He said as calmly as he could, trying not to start panicking himself, and crouched to Roman’s level. “We met the other day, remember? When I was with Logan and Patton.”

“Y-you l-l-live-“ Roman tried to say, voice shaking and words cutting off with his erratic breathing. “l-live wi-with the-em.”

“That’s right.” Virgil confirmed, nodding. “I live with them.”

“Bre-breathe.” Roman put a hand on his chest, gripping the front of his shirt tightly. “Can’t.”

“You’re having a panic attack, ok? It just _seems_ like you can’t breathe. Um.” Virgil wasn’t very good at comforting people, in general, much less comforting them in a crisis, but he breathed in and out and tried again. “I have them a lot- panic attacks, I mean-, so I know you’ll be fine. You just need to, um, breathe. I’ll breathe, and you try to breathe at the same time, ok?”

Roman nodded and Virgil started breathing in and out, slowly and deeply, counting out loud because counting always helped him calm down. At first Roman couldn’t keep up, his breaths quick and shallow, but his breathing soon started returning to normal and his iron grip relaxed a little.

“You need to drink water after panic attacks but, um, I don’t have any. Sorry.” Virgil said awkwardly, reminded suddenly that he was crouching in front of a cute guy who had called him pretty before and who was now staring at him with eyes that were becoming less panicked and more interested with every passing second. Now that Roman was calming down, what was he supposed to do? If he was bad at dealing with panicking people, he was horrible at dealing with them when they weren’t panicking.

“You said-“ Roman inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to get himself together. “You said that this happens a lot to you?”

“Yeah.”

“It feels horrible.” Roman massaged his chest, an absent thing that Virgil did sometimes too after panic attacks- it didn’t really do anything, objectively speaking, but the pressure was calming and grounding. “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either.” Virgil said, debating if he should stand up or not; in the end he sat down under the stairs so he wouldn’t risk startling Roman. “Panic attacks suck. Do you, um... do you wanna talk about it?”

“The panic attack?” Roman asked, brows furrowing as he gave Virgil a strange look. “I thought we were already talking about it.”

“No, like, what caused it.” Virgil clarified, unsure if Roman was joking or not. “You know, they don’t just happen out of the blue, something bad has to happen first. Generally speaking, I mean.”

“Oh.” Roman shrunk back and pulled his knees to his chest, circling his arms around them. “No, it’s fine.”

“Ok.”

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, Virgil playing around with the zipper of Patton’s jacket and Roman humming under his breath. At one point he shifted around so he could sit cross legged, and his jacked moved around in the process, revealing dark blue bruises that had color bleaching out of Virgil’s face; they were by all means fresh, still riddled with red that had yet to turn purple.

Roman saw him staring and quickly put the jack back in place, looking away, but the damage had already been done.

“Did...” Virgil halted, counting from five to one to calm down and focus. “Did Miss Inge do that?”

Roman looked back at him, blinking in surprise before he starting shaking his head furiously. “No, of course not! Grams would never. How could you say that?”

 _There is no one who would never_ , Virgil thought, but said nothing. Despite the bruises, he got the feeling that Roman wasn’t one of them, damaged kids who had seen the worst and assumed the worst, that he simply wouldn’t understand that kind of mindset.

“Don’t tell her, though! Please!” Roman quickly added, waving his hands through the air. “She can’t know! It’s nothing, really, I just overreacted.”

“I won’t.” Virgil promised, though it didn’t sit with him. But while promises made to adults were breakable, promises to other kids weren’t, and outing another survivor? Unacceptable. “But, um, you should tell her. She won’t be mad, or anything.”

“It’s really fine.” Roman insisted. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Uh, sure.” Virgil said, though he wasn’t keen on letting the topic go any more than he was keen on switching to chit-chat. “About what?”

“Hmm. School?” Roman offered, a small smile brightening his face, some of the fear leaking out. “You went to some other school, right, since I know almost everyone in our year and I never saw you before?”

“Kind of.” Virgil said- it wasn’t _technically_ a lie, since he did go to school. Sometimes.

“Well, I don’t know where you went, but the Academy is, like, fifty times better! No, seventy! Okay, sixty-five, but I’m taking it down just because of Professor Farrow- he gives _so much_ homework.” Roman groaned out, making a dramatic face before he moved on; all the dread and panic on it had disappeared, like they were never there. “But we have the biggest theater and the _best_ Illusions teacher ever- she always lets us off early and gives homework but like, it’s not compulsory. I hope they put you in my class- we have five of them, and if you end up in Kyrr that would be so cool!

“Just hope they don’t put you in Jule.” Roman said with a grimace. “The Ragged Seven are in Jule, and they are _insufferable._ But don’t worry!” Roman added, once again waving around with his hands- Virgil had noticed before that he tended to express emotions with dramatic movements. “I’m sure you won’t go there! I knew a couple people who went there, and they were both _super_ stuck-up.”

“I, uh, I’m not sure I’ll be going to the Academy, actually.” Virgil said, his voice sounding even quieter than usual after Roman’s loud outburst.

“Why not?” Roman asked, brows furrowing; he raised his hand and moved back the hair that had fallen into his eyes, making a thought of how pretty his fingers were flit through Virgil’s mind. “Professor Sanders teaches there, and Mr Sanders comes in sometimes too- he doesn’t work there, but Professor Ritz- she teaches Magic Law to older kids- calls him for advice, or something like that. You can’t _not_ go there.”

“Yeah, well, um, I never went to a magic school, actually.” Virgil said it quickly, bracing himself for mocking or laughter or teasing that kids in normal schools gave him when they would find out he was a failure and was behind on education.

But Roman’s only response was an, “Oh.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know I had magic until a couple days ago.” Virgil continued, somewhat encouraged to continue talking by Roman’s lack of negative reaction. “So I went to normal schools, more or less.”

“You thought you were an Ordinary?” Roman looked bewildered and shocked by the possibility. “Awe, I’m sorry, that must’ve been horrible.”

“Thanks?” Virgil had never before been given condolences for being a normal human being, so he didn’t really know what else to say to that. “But, yeah. I don’t think I could get into the Academy, even if I wanted to.”

“Well... Have you _tried_?” Roman asked, pulling on the hair that had once again fallen on his face. “I don’t know much about people who thought they were Ordinary but then found out they weren’t- well, I don’t know anything, actually. But you have magic, right? So you should be able to get in.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how to use it.” Virgil explained, moving his jacket so he sat on it rather than the cold floor.

“Oh. Well, I can show you, if you like. It’s not too hard.” Saying that, Roman raised his hand and a small bear appeared on it, not how Virgil imagined something would appear using magic (in his head it happened slowly, like a hologram appearing in a sci-fi movie), but all at once- one moment there was nothing there, and the next there was. “I call him Hubert. But don’t worry if you can’t do this right away! I’m the best in my Illusions class, so I can, but other can’t do it yet.”

Virgil stared at the small bear that looked as real as anything and then at his own hand- would he ever be able to do that? Probably not. He wasn’t sure he should try, either- what if the stairs fell down on them, or he set Roman on fire accidentally? Every time he had used magic before had ended in a tragedy, so the statistics showed this one surely would too.

“You can try making a ball- that’s what we learned in first year. It will probably look weird if you’ve never done it before, but don’t mind that! Everyone has to start somewhere.” Roman said, staring expectantly at Virgil. Hesitantly, Virgil raised his hand, imitating Roman’s gesture.

There were a few moments of silence while Virgil just looked at his hand, not knowing what he should do. Roman interrupted it when he asked, “Um, what are you doing?”

“Trying to, uh, summon a ball?” Virgil bit his lip and lowered his hand to the floor. “I don’t know.”

“You have to say the spell!” Roman said, then burst out laughing; Hubert disappeared when he moved his arms around. “You can’t do it without the spoken spell the first time, silly! I only learned how to make Hubert with an unspoken spell at the end of last year, and I’d been trying for, like, years!”

Virgil felt ridiculous and raised his hand again, but when Roman only continued looking at him expectantly, he said, “I don’t know the spell. Never learned magic, remember?”

“Right! I forgot.” Roman said, tapping himself lightly on the forehead with his palm. “Since it’s only a really simple illusion, you can use _Illusio_.”

“Huh. I was expecting something more, I don’t know.... extravagant?” Virgil said, then shrugged when Roman tilted his head. “You know like, _Vingardium Leviosa,_ or- Never mind. So I just say that and it’ll work?”

“Well, you have to also concentrate on what you want to do.” Roman stretched out his legs, his foot brushing Virgil’s shin in the small space before he moved it away with an absent apology. “Like, think about creating the ball, and boom- it will happen. Sorta.”

“Ok.” Virgil breathed in and out and looked down at his hand again, imagining a ball appearing there- Roman’s instructions were very vague, and Virgil wasn’t good with vague, but he tried his best to do what he was told. He tried to remember how it felt to hold a tennis ball that one time that a foster parent took him to the court to try and bond (he gave up when he saw that Virgil wasn’t cooperating and went to play with a friend, and Virgil ended up sitting in the furthest corner he could find and entertained himself by throwing the ball in the air).

However, before he could say the spell, the ball appeared in his palm, the slightly rough material familiar even after years, the surface of it scratched like that of the ball he had played with that time.

“Oh. My. Morgana. Did you just do an unspoken spell?” Roman’s mouth was agape in shock and he leaned in closer to observe the ball, more of his hair falling onto his face. “That’s insane. It looks so real, too. Are you _sure_ you’ve never done magic before?”

Virgil gulped at the suspicious look Roman gave him and nodded. “I’m sure. It was just beginner’s luck, surely.”

“There’s no luck when it comes to magic- that’s what grams always says.” Roman leaned in further and went to poke the ball. “This is awemazing, Virge. Can I call you Virge? I’ve only seen fourth years make something that looks _this_ real.”

His finger touched the ball and he flinched back, then went to poke it again. “No way. _No way.”_

“What? What is it?” Virgil asked, his mostly-calm mood instantly switching to a panicked one. Did he do something wrong? Was something going to explode? What if he made some huge mistake?

“It _is_ real. No. Freaking. Way.” Roman took the ball from him and Virgil let him, watching as Roman bounced it in his hand, eyes wide. “In- _sane.”_

“Sorry.” Virgil said, tugging on the sleeve of Patton’s jacket. “I didn’t mean to do that. Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Roman asked, a grin spreading across his face. “This is unbelievably cool! I’ve never seen _anyone_ do something like this, not even the kids from the Cauldron- that’s this group in the Academy of the most talented students under fifteen, by the way.”

Virgil didn’t know what to say- he hadn’t done that on purpose, so why was he being praised for it?

“If you do this for the entry exam, Virge, not only will they let you enter the Academy, but you’ll be able to join the Cauldron! Or even the Happersworths. _The Happersworths._ You’ll be _so_ popular.” Roman continued, too excited to notice Virgil’s rising discomfort. “And if you can do this with no school and training, imagine what you can do _with them.”_

“Um.” Virgil was biting his lip again, his fingers scratching his hand. “I don’t think- I don’t think I want that.”

“What? How could you _not_ want to popular and famous around the school? Everyone will want to be your friend, and you’ll be in the spotlight wherever you go.”

Roman talked about like that was a dream come true, his eyes all but shining with delight, but all Virgil felt at the thought of having all eyes on him, ever much less so often, was horror. He didn’t want to be noticed. He didn’t want to be popular. When he went to the Academy, all he hoped for was to be invisible and to learn a few spells, and to pass his classes so he wouldn’t be a disappointment once again.

What if Patton and Logan thought he should join the Cauldron and the H-whatever-it-was when they heard he could do this? What if they insisted? Could he say no? They’d done so much for him already, it wouldn’t be right for him to say no to such a simple request.

“Um, Roman- don’t tell anyone about this. Especially not Logan and Patton.” Virgil said quietly, feeling the metallic taste of blood on his tongue- he must have torn his lip. “Please.”

“But _why?_ I’m sure they’d be thrilled! It’s a _huge_ honor- only a dozen students are accepted into the Cauldron out of hundreds of students.”

“Yeah, I-I get that. But please.” Virgil pulled the sleeves of the hoodie over his hands. “I’ll keep your secret, and you keep mine. Okay?”

Roman seemed reluctant, pulling back, but nodded. “Okay. I still don’t get it, but it’s a deal- I promise not to tell anyone.”

He extended his hand, and not wanting to turn him down, Virgil extended his own, still covered in the sleeve, and shook it. “It’s a deal.”


	10. The Academy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back! I wrote this entire chapter at 2 am two days ago and I was gonna post it yesterday, but my cat was like It's Cuddle Time so she insisted we cuddle for like half an hour and then I lost the motivation to edit lol.
> 
> Also, 10th chapter!!!! How exciting!!! I never expected to write this much this quickly, so it's a surprise.
> 
> I'm not really wordy today it seems lol, so onto the chapter. Thank you for your continued support and especially thank you to LunausSerket715, shinykidmilkshake and aquaticsnapdragon for all your comments (and to everyone else, of course)! Have a nice day and take care, Dan x
> 
> (P.S. Same person is writing, don't worry, I'm just trying out a new name right now and writing Kat seems a bit odd at the moment, hence my current name)

Virgil paced around his room, biting on his thumbnail absently. After several failed attempts to just sit down and read a book, or listen to music, he gave up and started moving around, hoping that the physical exercise might help him get rid of some of the nervous energy. The sun was only now coming up so he had hit his feet a few times already in the dark, but the pain was easy to ignore next to the anxiety that was eating him up.

He barely slept at all- by the time he fell asleep it had to have been long past midnight, and he woke up an hour or two ago. The dark circles under his eyes were even more accentuated than usual, looking less like pale cruises and more like... well, less pale bruises.

After a long time of pondering and a few disturbingly-bitten nails, he decided to tell Logan and Patton that he wanted to go to the Academy. They were both ecstatic and a bit worried- after all, Virgil didn’t have any magical education beforehand-, but after a discussion during which Virgil was pacing around the living room much like he is pacing here, they decided that he should go to the Academy with Logan and have a talk with the principal.

The fact that Virgil knew who the principal was wasn’t in any way calming- if Inge was the way she was in a private setting, who knew how she would be in a professional one? She didn’t look like someone who would pat Virgil on his head and say, of course you can join the Academy! You have a lot of potential! He would most certainly have to show he could do magic, and that he could do it well enough to validate him skipping a year.

The only thing he knew how to do was create that ball, but that was off the table- he would almost rather not get into the Academy that live in the reality Roman presented. After that conversation with Roman that had left his head spinning and thought scattered for various reasons, he tried to do the spell again a few times in his room; he even tried to quietly say _Illusion,_ thinking that maybe that was what went wrong last time. But no matter what he did, he got the same results, and now he had half a dozen tennis balls hidden under his bed.

He’d tried to come up with a solution to his dilemma several times, but here he was on the morning of the Going To Academy day, with no idea of what to do. For a moment yesterday he had thought to ask Logan to teach him a spell or two (after the conversation he had eavesdropped on, it didn’t feel like a good idea to ask Patton), but he discarded that idea too- what if he did something wrong and weird again? It would defeat the purpose of asking in the first place if he just ended up revealing he can do things he isn’t supposed to be able to do.

A soft knock on the door jolted him out of his thoughts and he came to a halt, heart pounding. Had he woken someone up accidentally?

“Virgil. Can I come in?” Logan’s voice sounded; after a half-second analysis, Virgil found no trace of sleepiness or annoyance in his voice, and his posture relaxed.

“Yeah.”

The door opened and Logan came into view, dressed in what Virgil could’ve sworn was silk pyjamas (they looked shiny and smooth). It dawned on Virgil that this was the first time he was awake before Logan, and the first time he saw him before he got dressed into one of his sleek outfits- and before he brushed his hair, if its state was anything to go by. A part of Virgil thought that he should’ve felt awkward, seeing Logan out of his element, but all he felt was... homey. Homey? Had he ever used that word before?

He didn’t have time to ponder that further because Logan said, “Ah, you’re awake. I see you can’t decide on what to wear?”

Logan raised his eyebrows at the messy pile on Virgil’s bed that Virgil had completely forgotten about; his cheeks heating up with embarrassment, he moved a bit so he could try to cover up the chaos with his body. “Yeah. Um, I don’t know if I should wear something more, uh, professional?”

“It’s a school, not court, Virgil- you’re fine to wear what you usually do.” Logan said, a small smile on his face. “You’ll get a uniform once you get into the Academy, so don’t worry about it.”

_Once you get into the Academy._ Logan was _so_ sure that Virgil would get in, a million times more sure than Virgil was himself; Virgil had yet to decide if that comforted him, or made him more anxious. It was probably the latter- after all, just about _everything_ made him more anxious.

“Okay.” He said, and discreetly hid his ruined fingernails behind his back, remembering suddenly the state of them- the light may have been very dim still, but he didn’t want to risk it with Logan’s observational skills. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Logan’s fingers started tapping on the door frame absently. “I’ll go shower and get dressed, then make breakfast. Is there anything you’d like?”

“Um, toast is fine.” Virgil said, remembering what Logan usually ate in the mornings- he didn’t want to make Logan go out of his way to make something just for him. “Thanks.”

“All right. I’ll call you when breakfast is ready.”

Once Logan was out of the room, Virgil finally turned on the light and looked at the scattered clothes on his bed. Despite what Logan said, Virgil tried to find as professional of an item as he could- after some deliberation and another nail bitten too far, he settled on his black jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt and his hoodie.

Doubts starting swirling around his head when he put the outfit on and looked down at himself. Did this combination make him look like an emo nightmare? Most of his teachers in the schools he went to didn’t appreciate the dark clothing he wore and have often given him disapproving looks over them. He usually didn’t care because he knew he’d be out of their sight soon enough, but this time around he actually cared to look presentable.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it- Patton bought him clothes he liked, and dark and silly clothes were what Virgil liked. They were not only appealing, but they made it easier for people to ignore you, or write you off as an edgy kid; when teachers decided you were edgy they thought you didn’t care, and when they thought you didn’t care they stopped caring too, and that meant they had no expectations and showed no disappointment when you failed.

Virgil put on his slippers and left his room; he could hear the shower running as he passed by the bathroom- that was probably Logan. He halted for a moment, considering, then headed for the balcony.

When he opened the doors it was as if a freezing wall hit him, getting past his clothes and skin and straight to his bones; shivering, he stepped onto the cold stone and breathed in deeply, letting the sting in his lungs ground him.

The plants were all thriving as always, the green of them almost too intense to believe. Virgil crouched by one of the pots, the only one filled with flowers; they were purple and blue, several of them growing on each stem. When he poked them he found that they were as soft as they looked, easily giving way under his finger.

A part of him wanted to rip one of them off and keep it with him, but he resisted the desire and only petted them- after all, if he took one, it would soon welt and lose all of its beauty. With a sigh he stood up again and rubbed his upper arms, trying to warm himself up as he looked around.

From the balcony he could see the trees, now losing the oranges and yellows and slowly turning brown, the barest remainders of early morning fog, the sharp sunlight in the sky that would soon be covered in clouds. He couldn’t remember the last time he just stood still for a moment and admired the world, the last time he found it to be quite so beautiful and entrancing, the last time he felt calm and _present_ enough to do that- was there ever such a time?

For such a long, long while the world was always buzzing, always busy, always demanding that he pay attention to it even as he constantly tried to avoid doing that. His mind was an ever-moving mess, lit up with anxiety, only silenced by Virgil’s music and a good book; this was possibly the first time ever that he could just be motionless, no music, no words, just him and the quiet morning.

A movement caught his attention and he approached the railing, cautiously leaning over to see what it was. His shoulders that had tensed automatically now relaxed- it was just a person, probably going to work. He could see only their hair, blonde and tied back into a ponytail, and an aquamarine jacket, one of those slick skiing ones that he saw on ads occasionally.

As if they felt Virgil’s stare, they looked up sharply, making Virgil jolt with surprise. He probably should’ve waved, or shouted good morning like friendly neighbors do, but he instantly took several steps back, returning inside, and closed the doors quickly; something about that look unsettled him, and though he couldn’t tell what it was, his instinct told him to hide, and he was never the one to ignore his instincts.

“Morning, kiddo.” Patton greeted him, putting a hand in front of his mouth as he yawned. Virgil almost jumped in surprise and swiveled- he hadn’t heard Patton approaching-, but he tried to act natural.

“Good morning.” Virgil replied calmly and let go of the door handle as casually as he could; when Patton looked up to try and fix his disheveled hair and straighten his crooked glasses, Virgil rolled his shoulders to shake off the remnants of the ominous feeling that still stuck to him.

“Did you sleep well?” Patton asked, leaving his hair alone to concentrate on Virgil.

“Kinda.” When Patton kept looking at him, Virgil shifted on his feet. “Not really.”

“Nervous about the Academy?” When Virgil nodded, Patton sighed sympathetically. “Gotcha. My first day I was so terrified that I ended up accidentally hauling a vase at a teacher and then I ran away and spent the rest of the morning crying in the janitor’s closet.”

“Really?” That sounded _horrible._

“Yeah. Thankfully, that teacher was Inge, so she found me after the classes were over and gave me some tea and forgave it.” Patton chuckled. “Of course, because it’s Inge, I had to do an additional task for homework, but that was bearable.”

“And she’s a principal right now.”

“That’s right. She may be strict, kiddo, but she’s fair and compassionate, too. I promise she doesn’t bite.” Patton added reassuringly. “She’ll do the best by you, just like she does for everyone else. I have no doubts that you’ll get into the Academy just fine, Inge or not.”

“And if I don’t?” Virgil asked quietly, half-hoping that Patton wouldn’t catch that- he wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear the answer to his question.

“And if you don’t, that’s okay too- we’ll make a different plan, and everything will work out.” Patton glanced over at Logan who was coming in and fixing his tie, then looked back at Virgil. “You just be who you are and do your best- that’s all that matters. Hey, honey.”

“What are you doing up?” Logan came over and leaned down absently so Patton could kiss him on the cheek. “You shouldn’t be awake for at least an hour.”

“I wanted to make some breakfast and see my boys off. Is that a crime?” Patton said lightheartedly, putting back a hair that had escaped Logan’s meticulously ordered hair-do. “What would you two like?”

“I was going to make toast.” Logan said, moving over to one of the shelves to take out a couple books bound in dark leather, slowly and expertly.

“Toast?” Patton raised his eyebrows and unsuccessfully tried to hide his snicker.

“I asked Virgil what he wanted, and that was his answer.” Logan looked over his shoulder, brows furrowed as he finally picked up on the tone. “What’s wrong with toast?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just a bit boring. But if you two want toast...” Patton bit his smiling lip and shrugged. “Why not.”

Virgil kind of regretting saying that he wanted toast now that he had calmed some and his appetite was coming back; if he’d known it was Patton cooking, he would’ve asked for pancakes or an omelette. In fact, he probably wouldn’t even have had to ask- Patton always either told him what they were having and asked if Virgil was okay with it, or gave him a couple options to choose from.

“You’ll make breakfast, then?” At Patton’s nod, Logan said, “Excellent. I have some work to get to anyway- call me when it’s done, please.”

“You got it.” Once Logan was out of earshot, concentrated on whatever it was he had to do, Patton lowered his voice and winked, “I’ll make us some pancakes, don’t worry.”

It was probably the fatigue that had Virgil grinning unabashedly and suddenly instead of just smiling a withdrawn smile like he usually would have done; Patton’s face brightened like a light bulb at his reaction and he returned the wide smile, and then he was off to the kitchen.

***

The Academy was _huge._

_Ginormous._

When Patton told him before it was nowhere near a castle, Virgil had started imagining it as a normal school building, a couple stories tall with military-ish rows of windows, painted one of the ugly colors that school administrations seemed to enjoy immensely. But it wasn’t anything like that.

The Academy was several stories tall (Virgil couldn’t even see how many, it was that big), adorned with many, many stone carvings on the outside. It was shaped oddly yet it was pleasing to the eye, its windows reminding Virgil of those he saw in pictures of Gothic cathedrals, tall and with stained glass in colors of purple, green and yellow.

The building itself was entirely white (save for the stained glass), almost excessively so- there were no stains that he could see, no dirt, no faults of any kind, really. Whoever kept it clean (or did it keep itself clean?) put a lot of effort into it remaining perfect, like a picture just brought to life.

Virgil wondered momentarily how come he’d never heard of it before- it was only an hour and a half away from where he’d lived a significant amount of his life, and it was more beautiful than many buildings he’d seen praised on TV-, but then remembered that they probably kept it hidden with magic. A quick question to Logan confirmed his suspicions.

“It’s pretty.” Virgil commented, pulling on his hoodie; Logan had been quiet the whole trip to the school, stuck in his own thoughts, and Virgil thought that if someone didn’t say something soon, he might combust from the anxiety. He didn’t enjoy too much talking, but he didn’t enjoy too much _not_ talking either.

“I suppose so. It _is_ very structurally sound, and it was designed by some of the most prominent architects of their time.” Logan locked the car, placing his bag on the hood so he could pull on the garment resting in his arms. It turned out to be a sort of a cloak, fancy and smooth-looking, that Logan quickly and expertly set into place with a clasp before he started walking towards the school.

“Is something the matter?” Logan asked, looking back at Virgil who had yet to move to follow him.

“No. _No_.” Virgil repeated since the first ‘no’ sounded weak even to his own ears; after some urging and begging, he managed to get his legs moving. “All’s good.”

“Alright. Come on then.” Logan swiftly advanced towards the front door and swished his hand through the air; Virgil could hear a small sound and then the door opened by itself soundlessly, closing itself behind them as soon as they were inside.

Virgil stopped to look back at it, stunned, but then he got distracted by... well, everything else. They were in some kind of a hall, lit by something that resembled a chandelier, but was even fancier, if that was at all possible. There were archways on both sides, and some distance away there were two staircases, like those you would see in movies, just with more detail on the banisters.

On the inside there was more color- the emerald green of the carpets on the stairs, the flitters of gold here and there, the deep purple of the elaborate paintings on the ceiling. Most color came from the framed portraits hanged on the walls, exhibiting various kinds of characters that all sat in a very ‘I’m important’ manner.

Virgil snapped out of his awe and saw that Logan was already way ahead and, not wanting to be asked again if he was okay, Virgil hurried up to him, climbing the stairs quickly. The carpet seemed soft and sturdy even through his shoes, and he had a passing thought of how cool it would be to be able to walk on it barefoot and/or roll on it.

“The classes for second year students are held on the third floor. The joint dining room is on the first floor- I’ll show it to you later, if you like.” Logan started explaining as they climbed up and made a left turn. “The library is on second, third and fourth floor- you can access it through any of its three entrances. As for the-“

“Hey, professor!” A voice interrupted Logan and they both turned to look at its owner. First thing Virgil noticed were the freckles- a sea of them, to be exact, covering the guy’s face like someone had sprinkled cinnamon over caramel. The second thing he noticed were the dimples, and the messy hair that fell over almost-neon green glasses. The third thing he noticed, or rather concluded from the previous two, was that this person was very, very cute.

“Mr. Jenkins.” Logan said, his voice unamused. “I see you’re here once again.”

“Oh, you know how it is, professor. Once I get ahold of a book I just can’t put it down.” The messy-haired guy said cheerfully, not in the least bit bothered by Logan’s tone. “And _Gladis Bothes’s Guide to Technicalities of Spellcasting_ really is a thing to behold.”

“I’m sure.” Logan said dryly.

“Nothing like a great book, right?” He winked at Virgil. “And who is this?”

“Mr. Jenkins, my ward, Virgil. Virgil, the president of Happersworths, Jeremiah Jenkins.” Logan said, gesturing with his hand. “Mr. Jenkins is one of the hopes of the Academy, a title he will lose if he doesn’t focus less on his _reading,_ and more on his studies.”

“Awe, come on professor, you know I hate that name- it’s ridiculous. Just Jerry is fine.” Jerry said, extending his hand to Virgil. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Virgil glanced at his hand, flooded with freckles like his face and with long, elegant fingers, debating if he should be branded a weirdo by refusing to do something as normal as a handshake, but not potentially have an anxiety attack, or if he should take it and just endure it.

“Virgil doesn’t shake hands.” Logan said evenly and calmly, saving Virgil from having to make a choice that would leave him feeling horrible no matter which option he decided on.

“Ah, sorry.” Jerry chose to wave instead, an embarrassing smile pulling on his lips. “I should’ve asked.”

“It’s okay.” Virgil’s voice croaked oddly, which had color flooding his face against his control; he cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s nice to meet you too. I heard that, um, your uh... club? Is pretty cool.”

Jerry laughed, then gestured through the air. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just that no one’s ever referred to it as a _club_ before. And thanks- I like to think it’s pretty cool too. You’re enrolling, I take it, since you’re here before the school year’s started?”

“Yeah.” Virgil said, not wanting to explain awkwardly that he hadn’t even gotten accepted yet. “I am.”

“Sweet! I’ll see you around, then.” Jerry smiled again, the corners of his eyes crinkling adorably.

“I expect you at the APC this afternoon, Mr. Jenkins. _Awake_ , if possible.” Logan added, raising his eyebrows at Jerry.

“I’ll be there, and awake, I promise.” Jerry said, fixing his glasses. “I just hadn’t had enough caffeine yesterday, that’s all. Goodbye, then, professor.”

“Goodbye. And please remind Mr. Funhem on your way out that ‘sleepovers’ in the school dormitories are strictly prohibited, and that if he’s late again to the practice, Professor Langhram will give him a two week detention.” Logan added after Jerry.

“Will do!”

“Now, where was I... The professors’ lounge, that’s right.” Logan continued as if nothing had happened, and after pulling his gaze away from Jerry’s retreating figure, Virgil followed him. “The lounge is near the principal’s office, so if you can’t find me in my classroom and need anything, that’s where I’ll be.”

Logan went on explaining things, but Virgil had stopped listening- the realization hit him that with every step they were closer and closer to Inge’s office, which meant closer and closer to him ruining his chances of getting in and becoming a huge disappointment to Logan and Patton. Patton had said it was fine if he didn’t get in, but was it really?

Adults often said that things were fine, that it mattered that you be you, that you do your best, but when you ended up failing and not meeting their expectations, they would be disappointed in you, scold you, ask you why you were so lazy and why you didn’t try to do your _actual_ best.

“...and this is the principal’s office.” Logan finally came to a stop in front of a door of deep wood, the golden carvings on it spelling simply _Inge Latimer, Principal of the Academy._ “I hope you won’t come here too often, unless it’s to get a commendation.”

Before Virgil had time to prepare himself, Logan had already knocked and a voice was inviting them to come inside. Taking one deep breath before it opened, Virgil tried to brace himself for what was to come.

The office looked surprisingly normal, compared to the rest of the school- it looked like what he expected a principal’s office of a private school to look like, when he thought about it, which was admittedly a rare occurrence.

The room was dominated by a desk that looked smooth and heavy. A carpet covered most of the floor, which was wooden here as opposed to marble that dominated the rest of the Academy (was it marble? It looked like marble to Virgil, but he couldn’t have been sure.); the walls were a deep purple, hidden behind many, many intricate cupboards that looked both serviceable and elegant.

Inge sat behind the desk, her hair pulled up in a meticulous bun; from what Virgil could see, she wore the same kind of cloak as Logan, it was just the clasp of it that was different- whereas Logan’s was white with green details, hers was white with purple details.

“Good morning, Logan, Virgil. Please, come in.”

“Good morning, Inge.” Logan said, closing the door behind them and moving forward to sit in one of the three chairs in front of the desk. “I hope you’re well.”

“I am. Roman is in one of his moods where he closes himself in his room and won’t speak to me, but oh well, puberty.” It flitted through his head that Roman was probably trying to hide his bruises, but he kept his mouth shut as he sat down. “And how is Patton? I heard he’s better since the incident.”

“He is.” Logan confirmed, setting his bag down by his feet. “He refuses to take any supplements, but he’s well enough now that I don’t insist on it.”

“I’m glad. And how is your mother?”

How long would they chit-chat for? Virgil had expected them to get straight to the issue so he could just get through it and get it done, whatever the outcome, but every minute they spent talking about trivial matter made him more anxious and weakened his resolve to not run away and never come back. Objectively he knew it had only been a few seconds, but it his head they dragged on for hours and hours.

“She’s doing as always.” Logan’s curt tone had Virgil turning to look at him; he sounded almost angry, certainly annoyed, a rarity for cool-headed Logan. “Father and her are visiting the Minister the day after tomorrow.”

“I see.” Inge turned to Virgil, giving him a small smile before her face returned to its usual stern self. “Okay, let’s begin, shall we?”

Virgil wasn’t sure if he should answer since Inge was looking at him, or if it was a rhetorical question, but Logan saved him by saying, “Absolutely. I don’t want to take away too much of your time.”

“Appreciated. I know you’re busy too.” Inge said, glancing at Logan, then fully concentrated on Virgil. “So, Virgil. You want to join the Academy?”

Virgil gulped, but nodded. “Yes.”

“Logan told me before that you’re aiming for second year, is that right?”

Virgil wished she was writing something down, just so her focused gaze wasn’t on him the whole time. “Yeah.”

“Skipping a year is no small deal, as I’m sure you’re well aware of, especially when it comes to first year.” Inge said, interlacing her fingers in front of her. “First year students learn some of the most important things that a mage needs- control, focus, self-awareness- and lay the groundwork for all future spells and techniques. You’ve never had any magical training, correct?”

Should he just run away? He wasn’t actually considering it before, but as his anxiety climbed higher and higher, he was starting to. But no, he couldn’t do that; he had to at least give it a try before he failed, or Logan or Patton might never forgive him. “Correct.”

“That doesn’t necessarily make it impossible for you to go to second year- after all, your circumstances are... special, and you didn’t willingly skip on education.” Inge said, and Virgil tried not to think just how much Inge knew about him. “I took that into account and decided to give you a small test to see the extent of your abilities. If you pass it, I will be willing to talk to the staff and arrange classes for subjects that Logan and Patton can’t teach you so you may catch up to your peers. However, if you don’t, I’m afraid that you’ll have to start from first year like everyone else if you still wish to attend the Academy.”

This was exactly what Virgil expected to be asked of him, and it was what he feared. It still wasn’t too late to say that he can’t do it and that he would rather start from first grade, but the embarrassment of having to be the oldest kid and a sore thumb and never get to fit in drove him to nod. He’d been the weirdo and the outsider his entire life, and as silly as it sounded, he wanted this time to be different- for the first time ever he had a choice to start with a semi-blank slate. “Alright. I want to try it.”

“Wonderful.” Inge leaned back and Virgil heard a drawer open and close, and then Inge put a small cube onto the desk. It was dark blue and shiny, and maybe the size of a grown man’s palm. “This is a hubeus. Students don’t learn how to use it until the second semester of second year, technically speaking, but it’s not too complicated- however, it requires all the skills they picked up in first year to make it work, so it’s perfect for this test.”

That made sense- she couldn’t give him something really easy, or it would basically be letting him in with no surety that he could handle what was learned in second year. At Inge’s nod, Virgil hesitantly reached for the small cube and let it rest in his curled hand.

The moment he touched it he could feel its energy- the cube itself was cold, but there was something pulsating just beneath the surface, grappling to get his attention. It pulled on a part of him that he didn’t know he had until then, begging him to let it use it.

_My magic,_ Virgil thought, surprised at the sudden happiness that that discovery sparked in him. _That part of me, it’s magic._ He could feel it there, when the hubeus pleaded for it, when it caught onto it with its invisible claws, he could feel its presence like he could feel the presence of his hands and feet and head.

_Ok,_ he said to the hubeus in his head, _you can have it._ As if it heard him, the hubeus pulsated more ferociously- it reminded Virgil of the children in the orphanage, always seeking someone to play with, someone to give to them, food, attention, care. The inside of it started glowing, a spark of white that steadily grew in size.

Suddenly, Virgil felt a surge of anxiety- what if this wasn’t supposed to happen? What if he was taking it too far? He forgot to ask what he was supposed to do. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He didn’t know much about magic, but what he did know was that unspoken spells weren’t meant to be possible for a twelve year old to do- it would ruin all his efforts to hide what happened with Roman.

He shut himself off from that part of himself, the part that was magic, and shook off the hubeus’s fingers. The hubeus shut off too, the spark of light inside it dying off all at once like it was never there.

“Um, what am I supposed to do?” Virgil asked, hoping that neither adult had noticed the instant in which the hubeus was alight- it _was_ hidden behind his fingers, after all, so maybe he would get lucky. “I don’t know any spells yet. Sorry.”

“Ah, of course.” Inge said. Something in her gaze discomforted Virgil, but he tried to ignore it. “The spell is, unimaginatively, _Hubeus._ You’re supposed to make it shine, but it’s fine if you only manage to make it glow a bit- usually it’s not until third year that you learn how to use it properly.”

“Okay.” Virgil said, relaxing his hand so the hubeus would be visible to everyone. “ _Hubeus.”_

Nothing.

Virgil bit his lip, unsurprised, and tried again. The hubeus, so lively before, was dead now, just a cold cube in his hand. He couldn’t even find the energy to actually try to feel it again- if he was honest, he had already given up, and at this point he just wanted to go home and sleep for the rest of eternity.

Why did he even think this would work? He should’ve just said that he was fine with going to first year. Or that he was fine with not being in the Academy at all. Did he really want to go to this fancy school, anyway? Everyone here was probably so much better than him at controlling their magic and at doing stuff without making a mess or doing something wrong.

“Sorry.” Virgil said quietly as he set the hubeus down onto the desk, not daring to glance over at Logan who had been quiet the whole time. He wanted to go hide somewhere and cry, desperately. “It’s not working. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Virgil.” Logan finally spoke, his voice the same even and calm as always. “Some things just need time to be learned, and you’ve never really used magic before- it was a long shot. We can work on this at home and then try again before the school year starts, if you have more free time later, Inge.”

“Of course. I’ll be here, same time as always- I do think second chances are very important.” Inge said casually. “But before you two go... Could I talk with you privately, Virgil?”

“Um...” Virgil mumbled at the same time that Logan said, “Inge.”

“It’s his choice, Logan.” Inge said, still looking at Virgil. “If he wants to go, he can- I’m not forcing him to do anything.”

When Virgil quickly glanced at Logan, he could see the older man was about to argue back, so he quickly said, “It’s fine. I want to, I think.”

“Five minutes, Logan.” Inge raised her hand. “I promise I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think it was important.”

“Five minutes.” Logan looked over at Virgil, giving him a small smile. “I’ll wait outside.”

The second the doors were closed and he was alone with Inge, Virgil regretted his decision. Inge was giving him a similar look to the one she gave him before, like she was trying to peel back his skin and see what was underneath- and worse, she looked like she knew something that Virgil didn’t want to be known.

“You were holding back before.” Before Virgil could negate, she raised her hand again to silence him. “I don’t know why, and I won’t ask, but if you want to get into the Academy you have to show me that you are ready for it. This is a serious school, Virgil- some of the best mages graduated from here to become professors, scientists, government officials.”

“I do want to get in.” Virgil said quietly. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Virgil’s eyes widened- he hadn’t meant the second part of that to sound so aggressive. However, either Inge didn’t notice or didn’t care, because she just said, “Good. You clearly don’t want to deal with the hubeus, so this once I can give you something else instead. If you don’t take it seriously, however, you will not only not get into the second year, you will have to wait until next year to get into the first.”

That sounded fair, so Virgil gulped and nodded. “Okay.”

Again, Inge pulled something from her drawer; this time it was a glass sculpture resembling an elephant with a sharp hat on its head and a closed eye on the right side of its body.

“This is a gullish. It’s easier than handling the hubeus, and it requires no spell.” Inge explained, pushing it across the desk towards Virgil. “Use it.”

“Use it?” Virgil looked at it, then at Inge. “How?”

“Figure it out.” Was all Inge said, her piercing gaze set on Virgil. “I trust you can do it.”

“And it’s not... advance, or anything?” Virgil asked carefully and as casually as he could.

“Of course it’s not.” Inge assured him, fixing her cloak that had moved around. “Why would I give you something advance when you can’t make a hubeus work?”

That made sense. Carefully Virgil picked the elephant up, twisting it around in his hands. Unlike with the hubeus, he didn’t feel anything from it- it was just a glass statue, as far as he could tell. Was Inge playing a trick? No, that was his anxiety talking- he just has to concentrate, and do something with this glass statue, whatever that something was.

He closed his eyes, thinking that maybe that would help him.

Nothing.

Frustrated, he opened his eyes again and glared at the elephant, squeezing it between his fingers. _Work, work, work,_ he urged it in his head. _Work._

The gullish came alive in his hands suddenly and without warning. It wiggled around, opening its closed eye to reveal a bright blue iris; its energy changed drastically too, the statue filling with warmth and so much buzzing it made Virgil’s head spin around. There was also a feeling of being drained, like it was sucking away all of Virgil, and though he wanted to drop it, he didn’t dare.

“That’s enough, thank you.” Inge said, taking the gullish from Virgil’s hands; the world came into focus again and he could see the elephant was back to a glass statue. Had he imagined all that happened? God, he felt so _tired._

“Congratulations, you’ve passed the test. I’m happy to officially welcome you to the Academy, Virgil Sanders.” Inge said, putting the gullish away before she stood up and extended a hand. Virgil, still disoriented, stood up too and shook it, not entirely sure what was happening. “It’s a pleasure to have you.”

Virgil mumbled something, unsure what it was he said, and stumbled to the door; it took him two tries before the knob gave under his fingers and the door opened.

Logan was waiting outside as promised, turning to look at Virgil as he closed the door, his eyes curious and wary. “What happened?”

“I’m in.” Virgil said, then leaned on the door and lowered himself to the floor. “I was accepted into the Academy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even describe how much I love Jerry- I've had this dude for five minutes and if anything happened to him, I would kill anyone in this room and then myself /j I didn't really develop his character yet, but I looove his energy.
> 
> Also, I know I'm the one writing this so it's silly, but I don't really know how I feel about Inge yet, I have very mixed feelings rn. I didn't draft the whole fic out beforehand or anything, and I don't have an exact idea of what's gonna happen in it, so idk the full motivation behind character's actions and I'm basically only like a couple steps in front of yall reading this as far as being tuned into the plot lol.


	11. The Sorting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance if this chapter is a bit of a mess, I'm *exhausted* and I can barely process words so I didn't edit as much as I usually would, but I figured it's better I post it now than potentially put it off for weeks.
> 
> Anyhow- first chapter of 2021! Despite the messiness I'm pretty proud of it and I hope y'all will enjoy it as well. Thanks as always for all the kudos and the comments and the support, it's all a fanfic writer can ask for! 
> 
> Hope you have a nice day/night, that you're well hydrated and that you've taken your meds and gotten at least some sleep. Stay safe. Love, Dan x

“Patton, for Morgana’s sake-“

“I just don’t want him to be hungry!”

Patton and Logan were standing by the front door, arguing as Patton tried to stuff another cookie into Virgil’s bag. Virgil, who was already starting to swim in anxiety, barely paid attention to it; he was too busy picking at his brand new robe, trying to take his mind off of the wild beating of his heart and the feeling of suffocation that threatened to take him under.

It was officially the first day of school- or it was about to be in half an hour or so. Usually at this time of year he would be moping around in bed, unwilling to get up and be dragged into all those happy-go-lucky Halloween activities that Margaret insisted on hosting. Virgil loved Halloween as an idea- what was there not to love about a day dedicated solely to things regular people found scary and disturbing?-, but all the appeal was lost when you were forced to carve up pumpkins with dull knives and watch the Wizard of Oz for the tenth time.

But here he was now, up and dressed and revving with a mix of emotions as he prepared to go to a magic school for the first time with one of his foster parents as his other foster parent tried to stuff as much food as was possible into his bag. The tiniest smile dragged up his lips as he glanced up at the two men bickering, one of them draped in a pristine robe and the other in green pyjamas with puppies on them- it was a surreal scene, and something he was quickly getting used to.

In the end it was Logan who gave in with a sigh. “Alright, but this is the _last_ one. There’ll be food in the cafeteria as well.”

“No more, I promise.” Patton raised his hand in a pledge, then happily put the cookie into the bag and handed it to Virgil. “There you go, kiddo. Have fun, both of you- and if you need anything, Virge, just go find Logan, okay?”

“Okay.” Virgil said, knowing already that whatever happened at school he wouldn’t go running over to Logan to cry about it. No matter how different magic kids were- if they were at all-, he doubted that they wouldn’t immediately write him off as a weakling and a weirdo if he went crying to a teacher.

“And don’t worry too much about where you end up- all of the five classes are unique in their own way, and we’ll be proud of you no matter what.” Patton gave him a huge smile and ruffled his hair- his touch was warm and instantly calmed Virgil down, the peace lasting even after Patton quickly retracted his hand. “Go on now, my boys, before you’re late.”

“Bye.” Virgil waved a bit and slipped out the door that Logan cracked open, set on not witnessing the kiss that Logan and Patton exchanged. He went for the stairs, skipping down two at the time, careful not to get his robe caught anywhere in the process.

“Virgil!”

Hearing Roman’s voice almost had him tripping down and falling on his nose; thankfully, he managed to grip the railing at the last moment and save himself the embarrassment.

“Roman. Hi.” Virgil greeted, trying his best not to look his usual awkward self as he glanced at Roman and smiled politely.

The other boy was dressed similarly to him, save for the yellow strips of fabric around his forearms and the small enamel pin on his breast in the shape of a yellow flower (Virgil didn’t recognize it, but it had five or six longish petals). Virgil was already informed by Patton that once he got assigned to a class he would also get colors added to his robe to show which class he was in.

“I heard you got in from gran! Congrats!” Roman jumped around like an excited bird, or perhaps Margaret on mornings when she had too many cups of coffee consecutively. “Knew you could do it!”

“Thanks. Um...” Think, Virgil, think- if you don’t say something back you’ll look like an idiot. He had so many thoughts in his head at all time- far too many, in fact- so why was his mind blank the one time he needed them? “You’re also going?”

Wow, great Virgil, so smart. If he were able to go into some dark corner and smack his forehead repeatedly against the nearest wall, he would’ve done it without a second thought.

“Yup. I’m just waiting for gran.” Roman gestured to the door of his apartment, cracked open so quiet jazz music escaped into the hall. “Good morning, Mr Sanders.”

“Good morning, Roman.” Logan replied, coming down the stairs, smoothing down his robe that really didn’t need smoothing. “Pass on my greetings to your grandmother as well, will you? Come along, Virgil.”

Virgil wanted to protest but stifled down the ridiculous urge, only waving goodbye as he followed Logan, relief at the end of socialization mixing with the, to Virgil confusing, sadness at having the conversation cut so short.

He expected them to go out the front door, but instead Logan made a turn and went through a door Virgil hadn’t paid attention to before, emerging in the garden Virgil could see from his window, the same one where he’d first seen Roman, too wrapped up in singing to immediately notice Virgil.

Snapping out of it before he got too wrapped up, Virgil made himself return to the present.

Two women sat at the table, sipping on pungent floral tea as they chatted, their voices quieting down when they looked over at Logan and Virgil. They were both old, deep lines dug into their faces, and they both wore white gloves. As inconspicuously as possible, Virgil moved even more behind Logan, something telling him that he should stay unnoticed.

“If it isn’t professor Sanders!” The woman on the left exclaimed, voice shaky like old peoples’ voices knew to be. “Heading in earlier than usual today, I see.”

“Good morning.” Logan said, nothing in his tone letting on to whether he was happy to see the women or not. “And yes, you’re right- I have some additional business to tend to.”

“Does it have anything to do with this lovely boy?” The right one asked, looking right at Virgil; there was nothing unkind in his eyes, but Virgil still felt uncomfortable under the gaze, backing up his previous desire to hide. “That must be your new ward- I heard so much from him, but I had yet to see him.”

“He is, yes.” Logan moved aside, completely revealing Virgil, and gestured to him. “Doctor Harkins, Lady Chem, this is Virgil.”

“Hello.” Virgil said weakly, attempting to make up for it by raising his hand in a small wave.

“How interesting.” Lady Chem (the woman on the right) said, her eyes sharpening in a way that did nothing to put Virgil at ease. “I sense potential in you, child.”

“I’d agree with you, Amelie.” Doctor Harkins added, sipping more of her tea. “You give off a strong aura.”

Logan didn’t look very happy about the comments at all- in fact, he almost seemed irritated. Before Virgil could figure out why, his face became unreadable again. “That’s good, certainly. Now if you’ll excuse us, I don’t want to leave my responsibilities waiting- surely you understand.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Doctor Harkins agreed. “Please, don’t let us keep you.”

“Thank you.” Taking Virgil’s hand suddenly, making the boy flinch in surprise, Logan pulled him along a few steps to another door, this one completely white, and without making a hitch in his stride opened it and went through, dragging Virgil behind.

Virgil didn’t even get time to get confused or disoriented by the _nothing_ he saw behind the door before it felt like he was falling and falling and falling, all breath pushed out of his lungs; when the world came back into focus he was left wheezing and clutching his chest.

“I’m truly sorry about that, Virgil.” Logan said, his apologetic tone ringing as sincere. “I wanted to warn you beforehand, but I didn’t expect them to be there so early.”

“Are they bad?” Virgil asked impulsively, regretting it the moment he saw emotion seep out of Logan’s face again.

“They’re not... bad.” Logan said, his voice more hesitant than it was usually. Then he quickly added, “But keep away from them, please. In fact, avoid them at all cost, even if you have to run away- we’ll find some excuse, just _don’t_ stay alone with them.”

_But they’re not bad, huh,_ Virgil thought, but only said, “Alright.”

Tension left Logan’s body again and he gave Virgil a small smile. “We should get you to the sorting room now, so you can have a small break before the classes start to rest.”

“Does it hurt?” Virgil asked anxiously, all thoughts of the women in the garden pushed back as he concentrated on a more concrete thing to freak about. “The sorting?”

“No, don’t worry.” Logan assured him. “At worst it can drain some of your energy and make you feel lightheaded, but it’s ultimately harmless.”

“Hm.” That hardly eased Virgil’s worries, but he said nothing more as he followed closely behind Logan, not willing to get lost in such a big place and, god forbid, have to ask a stranger for directions.

***

“Here we are.” Logan stopped in front of a regular door painted green and purple, some of the paint chipping of on the edges; the only weird thing about it was that it lacked both a doorknob and a keyhole. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. All you have to do is answer a few questions and try not to panic, and you’ll be out before you know it.”

“Yeah.” Virgil wrangled his hands together, trying to hide the movement in his robe so Logan didn’t notice.

“I’ll wait for you here, okay?”

Virgil nodded, appreciating Logan’s dedication but too anxious to do anything to show it. Taking the nod as a sign that Virgil was ready, Logan opened the door with a swish of his hand and Virgil walked through, the door promptly and soundlessly closing behind him.

He’d expected some kind of an office or, oddly enough, a theater stage, but this was neither- it was a dimly lit room with potted plants taking up the majority of the rather large space. Virgil couldn’t identify any of them- he really wasn’t one for botany-, but he could tell that they were well taken care of, none of them bearing signs of dry leaves or disease.

“Come closer.”

Virgil jumped up at the strange voice, spinning around as he tried to figure out where it had come from; at last he spotted a small silhouette, so well camouflaged in the plants that it was barely noticeable. Though he squinted, Virgil found it impossible to identify _what_ it was exactly.

Reluctantly, remembering why he was here, Virgil stepped forward, deciding after the fifth small step that it was close enough.

“Hello.” He called out, gripping the edge of his sleeve for support as discreetly as he could.

“What is your name?” The person (creature?) asked, not even bothering to return the greeting; its voice was completely devoid of emotion, monotone and blank, and unsettled Virgil though he tried not to think about it.

“Virgil.” Then, after a pause, “Virgil Sanders.”

“How old are you?”

“Twelve, almost thirteen.”

The creature’s head lifted without warning, and Virgil gripped the sleeve tighter, chills running down his back as he looked into two white holes that must’ve been the creature’s eyes. He felt the need to approach closer and that need make his instincts scream, demanding that he get out the room immediately.

But he couldn’t do that- he still hadn’t been assigned to a class. He couldn’t disappoint Logan and Patton like that. So, ignoring his instincts, Virgil gave into the need and moved forward until he was just a couple feet away.

“Hmm, how interesting...” The creature looked him over, the unnatural way that its head moved back and forth, _almost_ human but not quite there. “Are you brave, Virgil?”

A series of memories ran through Virgil’s head at the question, of all the families and counselors and social workers who had called him that word over and over and over, like _survivor_ was the synonym of _brave_ , and said, “No.”

“Are you greedy? Do you want? Do you desire?”

_Well, this isn’t weird at all._ “I’m not greedy- I don’t think, at least.”

“Do you feel deeply?”

Virgil had a counselor once, an old, weird dude who asked him existential questions every time they met (it’s probably important to note Virgil was 9 at the time), and this creature was starting to remind him of the counselor. Or maybe he was reminding him of all those Buzzfeed quizzes he took when he was in the pits of depression? Virgil couldn’t decide.

“I suppose? I don’t know.” Virgil stuck his hands into the hefty pockets of the robe, hoping the motion would be read as nonchalant and not nervous. “Does anxiety count?”

The creature either didn’t appreciate the attempt at humour or simply didn’t care because he ignored it and just said, “Extend your hand.”

Virgil did as he was told, feeling the same chills again, this time amplified tenfold. The creature touched his hand briefly, causing static that had Virgil pulling back immediately, stuffing his hand back into his pocket; it didn’t seem bothered by it, however, and only said, “Jule.”

“No.” The word left Virgil’s mouth before he could stop himself, and the creature’s head moved in that same unnatural way as before. “No?”

“No.” Virgil repeated, his voice between nervous and certain, his hands fluttering in his pockets. “I can’t go to Jule. Literally anything but Jule. Please.”

“The decision has been made, Virgil Sanders.” The creature said, nothing in its tone letting on that it even registered Virgil’s concernedness. “You will be in Jule.”

“Then change it.” Virgil’s restless hands escaped from the pocket and began flitting back and forth through the air, one of them making its way to his mouth so he could bite on his thumbnail. “I really, really, _really_ can’t go there! Ro- I was told it’s horrible! With horrible people! I’m not a horrible person!”

Virgil wasn’t sure he’d ever said that aloud before, and he wasn’t sure he believed it, but he didn’t have time to ponder it as the creature said, “Classes are not divided on the moral values of a student, Virgil Sanders, but on the type of power one possesses. Your power is strong and hungry, so you go to Jule.”

“But I _don’t want to.”_ Virgil began truly panicking now, opening and closing his hands, breath ragged as he thought of the next God-knows-how-many years being spent in a place with bad people; he imagined Roman’s expression when he told him he was picked for Jule where bad people went, and he imagined losing possibly the only friend he would ever have- not that they were friends yet or anything, Virgil thought, momentarily flustered, but they might become friends, maybe.

It certainly wouldn’t happen if Virgil told him he went to Jule. He wanted to be anywhere else, and he dug into his head to remember the names of the other classes.

“Kyrr!” He finally exclaimed, “I want to go to Kyrr! Put me in Kyrr!”

“I cannot simply do as-“

“Put. Me. In. Kyrr.” Virgil repeated, panic of the alternative making him more stubborn than he ever recalled being before. He felt that same rush of energy as he did in Inge’s office, the same tingling in his fingers, and following his gut he touched the creature.

Light flashed and Virgil was thrown backwards, stumbling before he lost his balance and his butt painfully connected with the floor. He quickly scrambled back up, moving the hair that had fallen into his eyes to look at the creature, eyes wide as he awaited what would happen, fear in his veins.

“Virgil Sanders.” The creature said, not making any indication that it was aware of what had just happened, voice the same blank as before. “You will be in Kyrr.”

“Um, thanks.” Virgil said shakily, unsure both of what had just happened and what he was supposed to do now. “I appreciate it.”

The creature tilted its head. “I do not require gratitude for performing my duties.” Then it lifted both his hands, and Virgil felt a breeze; when he looked down, his robe turned identical to the one he had seen on Roman earlier. “You are free to go, Virgil Sanders.”

Barely managing not to trip over his feet, Virgil went through the door that opened in front of him, finding Logan exactly where he had been before.

“That took some time.” Logan commented, a smile glowing on his lips as he noticed Virgil’s robe. “Kyrr. It’s a good class, with a solid class teacher- your first lesson is with her so you’ll get to meet her soon. But more importantly: how are you feeling?”

“A bit lightheaded.” Virgil said, feeling instantly grateful that it was Logan in front of him and not Patton; Patton, the empath that he was, would immediately sense a lie. The truth was, Virgil felt just fine if a little out of breath, and even felt energized, the tingling feeling only beginning to subside.

Logan nodded his head sympathetically. “It happens, but it’ll pass- let’s go get you some water from the cafeteria; hydration’s always helpful.”

“What was that thing, by the way?” Virgil asked nonchalantly as they walked, not wanting it to seem like he was too curious about the subject.

Logan thankfully seemed satisfied at Virgil’s curiosity and didn’t look in the least bit suspicious. “It’s a Guardian, modified especially for the job it has here- it’s emotionless and objective, so it’s perfect for assigning students to classes. It analyzes their energy and the type of magic they possess and sorts them solely on that- thanks to its lack of subjective nature, it can’t be influenced neither by teachers or students, or any other party; once it’s made the decision, it’s final.”

_And yet I’ve influenced it._ Virgil wasn’t a genius by any means, but it didn’t take one to figure out that what he’d done was bad and most certainly against the rules. His only hope was that no one would ever find out, because he didn’t even want to begin to imagine what would happen if they did.

Of course, because his brain was as it was, Virgil could expect a series of nightmares where someone finds out one way or another- Virgil didn’t really need outside punishment, after all, he was sure to punish himself well enough.

“It’s never made a mistake before, or something like that?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Logan said, greeting someone they passed by as Virgil gave a polite smile.

“What would happen- in theory- if it did make a mistake? Or if, say, someone manipulated it?” Virgil nonchalantly asked, watching Logan’s reaction to make sure that the older man wasn’t catching onto why Virgil was so inquisitive.

“That’s an excellent question for theorizing, but I can’t give you a concrete answer- as I said, it’s simply never happened.” Logan passed through the doors of what had to be the cafeteria, with numerous tables and candles and chandeliers, but Virgil was too concentrated on Logan’s answer to properly appreciate it.

“However, if I had to make a hypothesis, I’d say that whoever manipulated it would find themselves at a disadvantage- the first two years it wouldn’t matter, but starting third the program becomes more and more concentrated on amplifying and bettering the abilities based on the class one is in; they’d have to grapple with a program that is made for a different set of abilities to their own.”

“Interesting.” Virgil wanted to ask more questions, but didn’t dare, so instead he just took the glass of water Logan filled up at a table covered with machines for drinks and gulped it down thankfully.

“What would you like to do now?” Logan asked, filling a glass of water for himself as well. “I have some tests to grade, so you can come with me to my classroom, or wait here until your classes start.”

“I think that I’ll just-“

“Virgil!”

Virgil turned around when he heard Roman’s voice and watched as the boy all but ran to him, clapping his hands excitedly. “You got into Kyrr! That’s so awesome!”

“Yeah.” Virgil shrugged, giving a small smile as he dug his hands into his pockets. “Luck, I guess.”

“Whatever it is, it’s amazing!” Roman’s lips spread into a wide grin, his shining eyes just barely hidden by the hair that fell onto his face. “I can’t wait for the school to start- there’s so much I gotta show you! Oh, oh, and I have to introduce you to _so many_ people. You see, Marcy is sweet, but she’ll try to steal your cookies any chance she gets, and Julianna is...”

Virgil could barely hear what Roman was saying and he certainly wasn’t processing any of it, too swept up in the sheer _energy_ that Roman radiated, pure happiness and excitement that fed on each other, and for a single moment all the guilt that sat in his stomach at what he did to the Guardian disappeared, because getting to see this, to hear Roman joyfully ranting on and on, to know that he will get to spend time around that boy that he was terrifyingly starting to hope might become his friend?

It was worth it.


End file.
